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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696663">Project Alpha (Revised Version)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me/pseuds/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me'>your_dragon_just_shot_at_me</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TMNT: Alpha Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TMNT (2007), Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Boys Being Idiots, F/M, Harassment, Pining, Revised Version, Rewrite, Strong Female Characters, Strong Language, casey being an idiot, continuation of tmnt 2007, fluff and angst for april and casey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 10:55:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>31,607</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696663</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me/pseuds/your_dragon_just_shot_at_me</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Together again, Leo and his brothers are trying to find their place in the world again now that they are together after having gone their separate ways. Leo has become consumed by his search for the Foot Clan after Karai's cryptic message. For all their searching it is like the Foot have disappeared from New York. No monsters, no ninja...just the daily street crime which is barely enough to keep them sane. </p>
<p>But with Leo's concern over the Foot their daily life struggles fall back to Don. Again. He's overworked, under paid, way under appreciated. Keeping the lair functioning, food on the table, even keeping them equipped while juggling increased training and work schedules takes it's toll. Sometimes it's just nice to make a friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Casey Jones/April O'Neil (TMNT)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>TMNT: Alpha Series [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1632424</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. How to move forward when the past is holding you back</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a rewrite of my original Project Alpha work, which was the first fanfic I had written in so many years. But I have grown and learned a lot about writing since I started this project and I really wanted to give it the love it needs. I will have no schedule for updates as I am currently working on writing the sequel to this and a sequel to my Detective Pikachu fanfic, Heart of Gold. But I am super excited to share this story.</p>
<p>While this is listed as the second in the series, currently all it is linked to is the original version for posterity sake. It's completely uneccessary to  read the first version.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Two Earlier (Leonardo has left for South America and his training mission): </p>
<p>A shadow moved at the door. Silent. Karai didn’t need to hear them. Her eyes opened knowing she could not meditate further. The light from the stasis chamber was only overpowering for a moment. Inside the glass chamber lay the remnants of the man known as Shredder. Without his armor, he looked more fragile than she’d ever known him. He looked human. A grotesque, twisted version of a human. His wounds had been healing, slowly. The internal bleeding and organ damage the hardest part, longest part of the recovery. Every doctor they had told them full recovery, awakening from the coma, would be impossible.  Now they were many months and doctors later still in the same spot starting over again. And things were far more unclear. Harsh lights in the chamber bleached his skin more than time had. Muscles laying useless deteriorated.</p>
<p> Monitors were stacked across the stasis chamber from her, silently outputting information about him, as they had for over a year. Stockman’s promises, considered psychotic a year ago, were fast becoming a dream. She’d led the Foot during this time, but under the assumption that Shredder would return. Silently she questioned every step she took. The Foot did nothing great during this time. So often they were idle she heard rumors of coups and mass exits of soldiers threatened. She would face them head on and quell them for a time until it all surfaced again. She did not have a heavy hand like Shredder did, no matter her lineage. </p>
<p>He hadn’t left her. Not yet. Or, more accurately, according to Stockman he hadn’t deteriorated beyond the point of hope. </p>
<p>Hope was something she was losing by the day.</p>
<p>“Yes?” she hissed. Her highest general handed a tablet over. “Does Stockman recognize any of these doctors?” His nod would have been imperceptible to anyone else. “Retrieve them.” Hesitating to take the tablet, she answered his silent question, “All of them.” Handing the tablet back she added, “And bring me Stockman. I have many questions for him. Again.” He melted into the shadows to enact her orders. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Sentimentality comes with a price</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The prologue is so short that I had Chapter 1 rewritten too before getting ready to post.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <strong>Present Day</strong>
</p>
<p>Chinatown. Home away from sewer home.<br/> </p>
<p>The lights on the archway radiated red, white and gold. Donnie took in the cluster of signs in the narrow streets. These streets always seemed to be full of hustle and bustle, like most of New York, even after dark. This city, their city, packed tightly together, but in Chinatown the effect was even more pronounced. Buildings smashed so tightly together each connected to the next and the cross streets almost disappeared. Traveling through this part of the city was easy. Fun even. And a great way to clear his mind.</p>
<p>This was the borough they grew up in, trained in, but over the years they’d frequented Chinatown less and less and for a whole slew of reasons. They’d started working, they weren’t out patrolling the streets anymore to keep humans safe from themselves, they’d moved on with their lives. For a time. That’s what their job had been, and not once did it pay any bills but that didn’t matter so much, it felt good. </p>
<p> Donatello may not have come through this way at all if his brothers didn't start reminiscing about it with father. Chinatown was not exactly out of his way from the junkyard, but he often kept to the sewers. Particularly in the day. Best not to get caught by people, especially on camera. Bulky clothing only hid so much. At this time of night Chinatown was still just as active with tourists and natives as the daytime. </p>
<p>Kitchen vents delivered new scents at every rooftop. Fried noodles from a restaurant. A street cart with fried dumplings. The next roof he could smell a whole assortment of fried meats from another of the next array of restaurants. His detour already delayed dinner now the aromas were conspiring to make him hungrier. Sentimentality came with a price. What was wrong with him making this detour, anyway? Plus by the time he got back all of dinner would be eaten. Mikey and his bottomless stomach would see to that. </p>
<p>He could already hear Mike, “You snooze you lose.” </p>
<p>Scrounging for food might not do him any good. Don tried to remember when the last time he bought groceries even had been and if he couldn’t remember it was probably time. Another item to add to the never ending list of things to get done.</p>
<p>He continued hopping rooftop to rooftop until he reached a large gap at the far southern edge of Chinatown. At dinner the previous night Mikey’d started on about running around in the grass during spring. Cherry blossoms so far overhead they were even out of reach when they stood on father’s shoulders. </p>
<p> He wasn't sure the building was even still there until he picked out it’s shadows. Every building in the area was at least three stories, most were more but there in the middle of the brick rectangles that made up Chinatown stood an old, single story home at the edge of the district. When they were kids, the owners had already abandoned the building. Father heard stories from the shadows, it was a home and converted to a shrine. Don had never been able to tell if the building was a Japanese Shintō shrine, a Buddhist temple, or a shrine to a man from Chinatown. Not that it mattered then or now. Someone still owned the building, but no one had used it for anything anymore. It sat deteriorating to the point not even the homeless would use it for shelter. From his perch on the rooftop, even in the dark of night, he could tell the building should be condemned. Holes littered the circular roof. Chunks of wall were missing, windows broken and boarded up. The building always seemed strange. The architecture was so far removed from the area. The shrine, or home, was circular, and he only remembered there being a few rooms inside. The unique reason Splinter ever brought them at all was the garden. The building encompassed a small grassy garden with a single sakura tree. He’d brought them there to see the sakura tree bloom in spring a few years in a row only when he deemed the spot safe. Safe enough from curious and, usually, spiteful eyes. Child safety was less of a concern as long as they kept to the grass. Which they happily did.  </p>
<p>The building was pitch black. No lights in the windows with only the glow from surrounding apartments and restaurants for him to see Don scanned the area. Nothing. Unfortunately it was too early in spring for blossoms yet. He could only make out the twisting, gnarled branches.  </p>
<p>He jumped down the outer edge of the fire escapes until he could reach the closest section of roof. He judged where the best location to jump would be, hoping that the spot he chose didn’t have loose shingles and the wood supports would hold his weight.</p>
<p>Nothing scurried out into the night, not even a rat. Didn't seem like anyone was around. He dared to leap onto the peak of the roof and vault immediately into the thin grass. The cherry tree seemed both bigger and smaller than he remembered. Now he could easily reach up and touch the lowest branches. Buds were starting to appear, it might blossom in the next couple days or weeks. He would have to remember to come back, maybe bringing his father. Sensei rarely came to the surface, but this garden was safer to visit than other places in the city.</p>
<p>A sound came from inside. Something scraped the wood floor. Could have been anything, but he knew he shouldn't risk getting caught if there was someone holed up in the abandoned building. At least there was still sewer entrance in the far edge of the grass, near the back gate to the alley. Swiftly, he ran to the cover, lifted it, jumped in and covered the entrance again. Next time he would do more recon. Or, if he was more intelligent and did not listen to Michelangelo and his inane stories, not bother being sentimental and just run his errands and get home. </p>
<hr/>
<p>Returning home did not feel much like being home quite yet. They shouldn’t even be living in this house. It should just be condemned and knocked down. But sentimentality won Carina over and, by association, her brother. </p>
<p>Tools, new wood, a few pieces of furniture littered the room. The electricity was on, and being paid for, but not working in this room yet. Or any rooms. Extension cords ran all around the room, mostly connected to work lights. She made her way to the back door involved tripping and cursing ending in a stubbed toe and sore shin. Neither had thought through where to keep the work light, though that was now almost at the forefront of her thoughts.</p>
<p>Her brother kicked at the floor, rattling the extension cord with his foot as he searched for the switch. When the light flared to life she cursed again, blinded.</p>
<p>“Did you see someone in the garden?” Carina asked her brother from the sliding door that led to the garden. </p>
<p>“Nope.”</p>
<p>“I'm serious.”</p>
<p>“You must be seeing things again. Think this place is haunted?”</p>
<p>“You're an idiot.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Coming home again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> The lair was dark and still save for the graphics on the video game consoles dancing around to their tinny music. His brothers retired early after their hard day training and as he predicted no one saved him any dinner. Michelangelo even polished off the scraps of pizza from lunch and finished their cereal, meaning they’d have little for breakfast in the morning. Grocery shopping. Another item added to his never ending to-do list. If truly desperate he could ask April or Casey, but he hated to bother them, especially when they were busy looking for their next client. Well, one of them was busy, the other was busy in other ways, based on the renewal of April’s complaints. <br/> </p>
<p>Donatello threw his messenger bag on his bed, switched on the work light in his computer lab before he booted up his work PC. With his brother back and their training and patrols off hiatus, he’d taken to grabbing late night shifts in his IT phone technician gig. He caught sleep when he could, though that time was dwindling as Leo drummed up the training schedule. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> Waiting for the PC to boot, he rummaged in the cabinets, finally finding a box of ramen hidden in the very back recesses and just enough oatmeal to lead to a loud, complaint filled morning. But he wouldn’t have to go dig out his bulky clothes and find a 24 hour bodega after his shift just so they had breakfast. He considered asking one of his brothers to help, but Leo and Raph took any extra time to train and even reconnaissance patrols. Leo insisted on learning the new pulse of the city since his departure. Then there was Mikey. He always looked for ways to help, as long as it didn’t take too much work. Don learned the hard way that Mikey shouldn’t help with grocery shopping. Neither go nor dictate the grocery shopping. Not after the last time when they ended up with twenty boxes of the most sugar filled cereal known to man. </p>
<p> Waiting for water to boil, he checked the security system cameras, ran back to the kitchen for his ramen and a soda, grabbed the headset from his bed, and finally, finally collapsed into his computer chair.</p>
<p> While he logged in to his work account and devoured the noodles, he thought back to his detour. It was dumb. He never should have stopped, and he kept kicking himself that, of all people, Mikey got in his head. Making Don reminiscent of childhood and family every time April or Casey came over Mikey convinced Master Splinter to tell stories from their childhood.</p>
<p> Splinter curled his tail around his feet, settling in next to April on the couch. With each new story, he’d gotten more animated in his storytelling, more dramatic.  “Since the day we were mutated we have had few safe havens above ground. Day or night. When they were small children, I kept them bundled on me with a blanket. But as they grew, and would not heed me, or be still,” he focused his intent gaze on Mikey, “it was impossible to keep them safe. A nearly insurmountable task when Michelangelo insisted on climbing the pipes all the way to the ceiling.” </p>
<p> When the giggles died out, April asked, “Where could you take them that was safe.” </p>
<p> “Of all places,” Leo needed to stifle another round of rare laughter, “the junkyard.”</p>
<p> Splinter, appearing to meditate on the story, continued, “It was the only place with a fence Michelangelo would not climb over. Also, I could run them around finding what we needed for our home. To an extent.”</p>
<p> “Let me guess,” Casey tipped back his beer, a glint in his eye, “Don would try to bring everything he could home. Like the entire junk yard!”   </p>
<p> His brother’s enjoyed the barb as much as Casey but Don said, “Yes, laugh all you want. I built that warming lamp we still use in the winter.” </p>
<p> Sensei claimed the room again just by setting his teacup onto the saucer. “When they were older, and I could venture out further and leave them in the lair, I started to explore different neighborhoods. I missed the atmosphere of my old home in Chinatown and knew the streets well enough and that I may go unnoticed. The boys were young, five, perhaps six years old when I stumbled on a community garden on a roof near the southern edge of Chinatown. Fresh vegetables were the hardest foods to come by. We only took sparingly, and I taught them to help care for the garden as our way of repayment for the food.” Splinter paused to sip his tea. “One evening as I searched for food in dumpsters behind the restaurants, some cooks almost found me coming out on break. I dove behind the dumpster, cornered.” </p>
<p> “Like a rat?” Mikey yelped as Splinter’s tail whipped the side of his head. </p>
<p> “Police were investigating a murder at a small house on the edge of the district. I had seen this place. It did not look like a house. Many people visited, going in and out all hours of the day. More like a shrine. A peculiar building. Short. Round. From the rooftops I could see a small garden. Weeks passed, and I studied the building. It was most certainly abandoned. No police visited any longer. During the deepest depths of the night, I woke my sons, and we made the trek to this small house.” </p>
<p> “Wait wait wait… why would you wake them to take them there? I mean…”</p>
<p> “Grass.” They intoned quietly. </p>
<p> “Grass?” </p>
<p> “Hey, it’s not like we can just waltz around Central Park!” Raphael’s face fell but lifted again seconds later, “And that tree.”</p>
<p> “What tree?” </p>
<p> “In the middle of the garden, a sakura tree.” Clearly his father had begun preparing which story he would tell. Reaching into the folds of his robe, he stretched out his hand where he’d concealed a paper flower. “It was mid-spring. The blossoms were just opening.” </p>
<p> April tried to conceal tears welling in the corners of her eyes as she watched each of the turtles relive the moment. They could still feel the breeze swirl around them, allowing the light scent of the cherry blossoms to wash over each of them. </p>
<p> Donatello opened his eyes. Back to reality. While living in the sewers offered relatively low amounts of bills, he still had to pay for gas for their van and groceries for the family. Reminiscing was nice, but he needed to get back to life. IT, as painful a job as when Leo was gone, but it paid the bills and he got the occasional repair job from a shop owner that never looked too closely at him whenever he dropped in to buy computer parts. Money was money.</p>
<p> A wall full of monitors sat in front of him, lighting the entire room. Gadgets in various stages of build were scattered among his floor, any desk space in the room scattered with remnants of wires and bolts making it a trial to reach the main living room let alone get to his room. </p>
<p> Maybe he would consider stopping at that sakura tree again on his next scavenging trip. Or even the community garden.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> Their house was technically not habitable. The electricity didn’t work in any of the rooms.  Extension cords ran from the breaker box to the living room and kitchen for several weeks now. Essentially, they had walls, floor and most of a roof over their heads. Walls might have been an overstatement.  Since the short time they lived with their father in this tiny house vandals broke in making off with copper piping and wiring from the walls leaving little of the drywall left intact. Then wild animals dug in, making and fighting over this place as their home until Chris called for animal trappers to remove their unwanted tenants before they ever stepped foot in New York.</p>
<p> All of this banded together to make absolutely no way to cook unless they used a grill out in the garden, which would have been fine until they tried to do dishes with no running water. Camping was literally more luxurious than this house. </p>
<p> So, an essential for them, with the current state of their housing, was food. Fast, delicious and, most importantly, abundant. Chinatown certainly provided all those.  In the weeks since they’d moved in their neighborhood restaurants already to know them very well.  The ramen restaurant, half a block down from them, knew them best. Their dad cared for the owners when he lived in the area, Mr. and Mrs. Zheng. They even remembered Chris and Carina from the few times Dad had taken their family out to eat. Now the Zheng’s saw her every other day. </p>
<p> Slouching further against the wall, Carina threw her chopsticks into the soup container. Their move to the city was not as well planned as she had thought. </p>
<p> “We have a place. How much work could it be?” She said like a dumbass. She was a dumbass.  Now her hope rested with her brother getting an electrician to commit to coming, preferably this week, to fix the house's wiring. She was more than willing to help with the drywall and roof repairs if she could see. </p>
<p> Hair fell along her shoulders as she pulled her hair tie out. Carina ran her fingers along her head and through her hair, pulling at it, letting it trail over her face before brushing it back again. A warm shower in her own home and food. That was all she wanted.</p>
<p>  They had plenty of offers to stay with family, but she was stubborn and Chris was… probably taking a long hot shower at their sister’s place right now just to spite her while she sat stupidly in the dark waiting for something that would never come. Puffing out a breath, she stood up and looked out the window she’d been sitting under.</p>
<p> “What?” she whispered, feeling a little less stupid. A figure, tall or at least taller than her, was standing in the garden just staring up into the cherry tree. Over six feet tall for sure. There was something strange about his silhouette, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Could have been weariness from working all day, but she didn’t think that was right.  It had to be the same person she’d seen the previous week. How many people broke into an abandoned house to get to the garden and look at a tree? Chris thought she was crazy, and as she searched her pocket, she realized she wouldn’t be able to prove it yet again. Her phone was missing, probably dropped it somewhere in the house, but if she tried to find it she’d definitely make enough noise to scare the person away again.</p>
<p> How did he, or she, keep getting in to their garden? Unless they were bringing in building materials, their back gate to the alley was always locked and the only other way in was through the house which she would have seen. </p>
<p> Carina watched for a few minutes. He never really moved much, just stared up in to the sky and at the tree. </p>
<p> Jingling keys jostled her out of her reverie. Carina’s foot caught on an extension cord, throwing her just off balance enough to crash onto the garden door as her brother came through the front door. By the time she turned again, the garden was empty. </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p> Casey was trying to figure out what exactly he’d done wrong. In all honesty it could be any number of things he’d done, or not done, and with the mood April was in he would be guessing and making her even more mad until he got it right. Guessing or not guessing, at the end of the night it would end like most of their fights, with him sleeping on the couch. So, he stopped trying to figure out what mysterious thing she was pissed about and get them to lunch. </p>
<p> “You’ll like them!” Casey was genuinely excited. He was about to introduce some of his best friends he’d had as a kid, kids that were not constantly getting him into trouble at school or on the street, to the woman that helped bring out the best in him. “This time will be different.” </p>
<p> “Right.” April lagged behind him, nose glued to her phone, checking her email as she had been doing every five minutes since she’d had a promising meeting. Casey held out hope that she was only upset about their current lack of clients until she pulled her nose out of the phone and said, “Last time we met some of you old friends...”</p>
<p> “Do we have to replay that?” Casey moaned. </p>
<p> “Yes, I think we do.” She pocketed her phone again, making the walk more uncomfortable by glaring at him intensely. He prayed she hadn’t gotten the email and not they lost another client. If it was who he thought it was Casey did not make a good impression. Again. </p>
<p> “It’s not like it should have been a surprise. You knew where I grew up. Who my dad was.” His excuses were wearing thin with April. She loved him, more than anything, but her expectations and reality were not colliding. They’d had a good few weeks, happily in love after the whole Winter’s thing, and then their next work lead dried up. Casey didn’t have much to do, so he fell back to his default: cleaning up the streets at night and sleeping into the afternoon. When April needed him for something, like a ride in the van or to meet with a potential client, he inevitably ended up getting there late, disheveled and she was already pissed.  “You’re fine. They didn’t do anything...” </p>
<p> “You were lucky to get out of there alive! We almost lost the van!” She was trying not to shout, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t still making any less of a scene.  Stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk, people grumbled as they rushed around April and Casey to get to their own lunch destinations. “And we lost the office! I am still looking for a new office not in Purple Dragon territory!” </p>
<p> Admittedly, he had no defense for that one. His childhood friend, Angel, reappeared after years. They’d gotten a drink with April and, well, one thing led to another and Casey found out Angel was in deep with the Dragons. Really, really deep. And the Dragons had a bounty on Casey’s head. When they came after Casey, the Dragons lost half a dozen guys to getting arrested when they tried to take Casey from their office, idiotically, in the middle of the day. All of which combined to make the bounty go up. </p>
<p> As soon as April started receiving threats in the mail and, even worse, in person they abandoned that office and had been looking for a new one ever since. </p>
<p> She wouldn’t budge from her spot on the sidewalk, making Casey push her down the street. “Come on, we’re already late.” </p>
<p> April only made a little noise, starting to walk right as Casey went in for another little push. “Where are we going?” </p>
<p> Pointing across the street to Apolis, a Greek restaurant they’d seen countless times on their way to meet clients, complete with silhouettes of Greek architecture in the windows, Casey grinned. April may have suggested the restaurant one or two times in the past, so he was confused why she was looking even grumpier. </p>
<p> “What? We’re not meeting them at a bar for a noon beer?” </p>
<p> “Well, I mean I asked,” April stormed off towards the crosswalk. Casey muttered, “I could use a beer just about now.” </p>
<p> Casey tried to become the model of chivalry, holding the door open for her, but she shoved him through. There was no point asking for a table. He spotted the twins, Carina and Chris, sitting, having a deep twin-ly conversation that involved all the same poking and prodding Carina did to them as a kid. Chris was digging in on some point and, as if straight from his memory, Carina giggled mischievously as she threw a playful punch at his shoulder. </p>
<p> Then a sudden squeal, so loud the entire restaurant paused to find the source, came from Carina, “Casey!”</p>
<p> Next to him, April was absolutely fuming. “Oh, yes. This is much better.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you enjoyed the next chapter. Like I said before, I don't really have a posting schedule (I might even start posting the sequel to my Detective Pikachu fanfic next), but so happy to get this out! Thank you!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Idiot boys doing idiot things</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I will update tags for the story as I go along posting chapters. </p>
<p>This chapter includes strong language, boys being idiots, and female harassment (spoiler: she don't take that shit but it does happen).</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donatello folded his arms on his workbench, staring long and hard at the dismantled engine. He was eager to replace it in the van but, unfortunately, still missing several parts. In fact, the more he took it apart, the more parts he needed.</p>
<p>When Mikey said the van was making funny noises for about a week and he ‘just forgot to tell Don’, he should have worried more. A week in Mikey time had to come out to at least a month in reality. Add to that a recent little skirmish that left the front end banged up, well more banged up, and Don questioned whether it would be easier to start over with a new van.  When he got stuck with the engine he hammered out dents and dings and now he was running out of things to hammer. He shouldn’t complain. None of this even compared to the beating the van took during the Winters’ Corp fight. He still didn’t have a new bumper for the van after that whole fiasco. </p>
<p>He was close to finishing the engine, he could feel it, if only he could find the last few parts. Without those, all he could do was watch the engine mock him. Don fished out his growing list of parts and added the newest pieces he required. Good news, if there was any, was the parts he needed were small, he could bring a box or a large sack to carry most of it without bothering his brothers. And if he found a bumper for the van, he could probably carry it back on his own with little difficulty. Worst case he had a few spots he could stash it in the sewer if it became a problem.</p>
<p>Donatello grabbed his bag. He’d made some coffee earlier in the afternoon. He could grab the last of that and head out now to make it back before patrol started. </p>
<p>Lively conversation filled the living room. Casey dropped by early and his brothers had decided on a break between training sessions. Nice of them to let him know.  </p>
<p>“I don’t get it.” Casey sulked. </p>
<p>“What’s going on?” Don asked, his momentary relief that accompanied the relaxed atmosphere gone when he realized the coffee decanter was empty. Leo sipped from his mug, loudly. Flipping open the cabinets, Don groaned. They were out of coffee. Another stop to make. He wouldn’t make it through his midnight shift without caffeine. </p>
<p>His brothers were playing a Mortal Kombat, taking turns from beating each other senseless in reality to beat each other senseless on the screen, “Well, let’s revisit last time you ran into an ‘old friend’.” Raph passed his controller to Leo. Mikey was the reigning champion for a reason. </p>
<p>“Not funny, Raph! That’s exactly what April said.” </p>
<p>Don tried to shake off his annoyance. “She has a point.” </p>
<p>As if they had betrayed him, Casey turned to glare at each. “They are not in a gang. That’s ridiculous!” None of them were convinced. Mikey hit pause just to stare at Casey. “They’re not.” He added more weakly. “They’re too...too...like Don! Kind of.” </p>
<p>They passed around raised eyebrows, even more confused than before. </p>
<p>Don eventually asked, “Is that meant to be an insult or a compliment?” Of them all, Don and Casey were not the closest. Their personalities not exactly… compatible. Casey and Raph were best friends. Don’s personality fit more with April, which always sent a small pang through him. </p>
<p>“Compliment?” He was losing them. “I mean one’s a doctor for crying out loud! She’s a great...” </p>
<p>“She?” Raph threw up his hands. </p>
<p>“You’re a moron,” Leo agreed, finishing the coffee. </p>
<p>“I concur with Leo,” Don said. </p>
<p>Mikey was in a fit of giggles, pointing at Casey. When he caught his breath, it started all over again. </p>
<p>“What? What did I do?” He pleaded for help from each turtle until landing on Donnie. “Don, come on. You’re real close with April. What did I do?” </p>
<p>A sudden flush crept into Donnie’s cheeks. Close was not the word he would have chosen.</p>
<p>Mikey, the only one to have ever noticed Don’s feelings, finally stopped laughing. </p>
<p>He adjusted the strap on his bag, a slight pressure extending in his chest. “Well... uh, tell me what happened.” </p>
<p>Excited by the prospect of real understanding Casey rubbed his hands together, “When I was out checking on the kids last week I ran into these guys I grew up with.” Don rolled his eyes. This would be a long story. “So, I thought ‘they’re great guys, April will totally love 'em’ and you know how she’s always wantin’ to know more about when I was kid and stuff.” Waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming Casey continued, faster now, “So, you know that Greek place April’s always harassing me to try? I suggested we all go there for lunch so she could meet ‘em.” </p>
<p>Raph, Leo and Mike had heard the story, possibly with more details. They shared a look. </p>
<p>For Don, the equation was incomplete. When Casey offered no more he asked, “This friend is a girl?” </p>
<p>“Well, it was two of ‘em.” </p>
<p>“Two girls?” </p>
<p>Mikey nudged Raph, returning to wildly giggling.</p>
<p>“No,” Casey tried to ignore them, but clearly images were coming to mind.</p>
<p>“She brought her boyfriend?” </p>
<p>“Nah, they’re brother and sister.” </p>
<p>“And she’s single?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess. Didn’t really come up.” </p>
<p>Now back to playing Mortal Kombat with Leo, while laying upside down on the couch, Mikey said, “She pretty?” </p>
<p>Casey screwed up his face, “I guess?” </p>
<p>A scoff escaped Don.</p>
<p>“Ha!” Raph barked. “I get it and I ain’t even dated anyone.” Raph turned away from Casey to cheer Leo on, though probability leaned towards Michelangelo. </p>
<p>“So...?” Casey pleaded with the turtle. </p>
<p>“I suggest you sleep here tonight.” Don offered. To get his coffee, he’d need clothes and the only out was one of the oversized trench coats and hat. Extra weight to carry around. The things he did for coffee and his family. </p>
<p>After Leo lost miserably, he noticed his brother heading toward the door, trench coat in hand, “Going to see how April is doing?”</p>
<p>“No. I don’t suggest anyone goes near her until she contacts us.” They’d paused the game again, “For safety reasons.” The brothers shared a similar smirk, all endlessly amused by Casey’s predicament. “I’m going to get more parts for the van.” </p>
<p>“Have fun.” Raph unpaused the game while Mikey was still distracted, getting in a few cheap shots before he realized. </p>
<hr/>
<p> Twilight in New York painted the sky in oranges and yellows and reds. Branches swayed as breezes brought spring to the city. Buds near bursting weighed down the tips of the branches. He’d really hoped that the flowers would have bloomed by now, and he could move past this idiotic sentimentality. He should have just gone back home after getting the car parts. Coffee could theoretically wait. Cola had enough caffeine to keep him awake through his shift. But he kept telling himself that he’d done more reconnaissance. There was nothing to worry about. No humans around at all, and he was just jumpy with guilt that he was here without telling his brothers. </p>
<p> The longer he stood there, analyzing the sakura tree, he realized that there was something wrong with it. Buds should have made every branch heavy. And with twilight’s light he could see some branches were darker, brittle and broken. The sakura tree was sick. With no one around to take care of it. </p>
<p> Donnie circled the lowest branches, looking for more signs when a stifled gasp startled him. </p>
<p> The math was not on his side. His box of parts were seven feet away and too big to fit through the sewer grate near the back alley entrance. His trench coat and hat with it. Leaving without them was plausible, not preferable. He’d been searching for some of those parts for weeks. And clothing in their size was hard to come by. </p>
<p> “Please, don’t go! I’m not going to,” it was a woman. She must have been hidden in the shadows, not that that was any kind of excuse. He was a trained ninja, for heaven’s sake. <br/> Bracing for the inevitable, a terrified scream accompanied by a slur like 'monster’. Somehow it was always worse with a woman. More disheartening. More terrified. More... </p>
<p> “Don’t.” Don winced as the grass rustled. “Please, I’ll leave.” He could barely get the words out. Donatello only made it a few steps, feeling the specter behind him. Close enough to see him even in the dwindling light. “Please don’t scream.” Tears pricked at him. Another safe haven destroyed. “I won’t come back.” </p>
<p> The woman’s voice was soft, “I was just curious who was so interested to break in just to see a tree.” A solitary beat extended into forever. The pause before the scream. Don felt himself wince before he could stop it. </p>
<p> Nothing.  No scream. He winced at nothing. Literally nothing.</p>
<p> “Oh.” </p>
<p> “Oh?” That was it? Oh? “You’re not going to... scream?” </p>
<p> “Would that make you feel better? I mean, you asked me not to.” </p>
<p> He hadn’t even thought she’d be able to hear it. Saying it was more like a prayer that she wouldn’t, and for all of them that prayer almost never went answered. </p>
<p> “I... did.” Hesitantly, Donnie turned around, bracing again. Maybe from the back he was not as terrifying. Maybe it looked like a costume or... something. “It’s an understandable reaction.” She only mumbled or hmm’d back, hands curled around a steaming mug. She was small, not even coming up to his shoulder. Disheveled from a day of working. Scrubs. They both took a moment to look over the other. “Do you live here?” </p>
<p> “It’s complicated.” Her smile lifted a little weight off his shoulders. </p>
<p> “No offense, but you don’t look as if you’ve been living on the street.” </p>
<p> “Yes, I heard that people squatted in here before. Not often, if I recall. Supposedly there’s ghosts!” Taking a thoughtful sip she answered, “My father owns this house.”</p>
<p> Don’s heart was racing, Leo’s voice rattling around in his head telling him it was a trap, it was the Foot Clan. But that smell. Coffee. Italian roast. Strongly brewed. Each little breeze wafting more of the heavy scent to him.  Letting his eyelids drift closed, he inhaled the scent. Oh, how he wanted a cup of coffee. He was too easily swayed. One cup of coffee was not a reason to get himself captured. He settled on, “This building should be condemned.” </p>
<p> “Yes,” she agreed. “That’s why it’s complicated.” </p>
<p> The sky above them was transitioning from the warm red colors to the inky dark of the city’s starless night. </p>
<p> A badge hung from her pocket. “You’re a doctor? Atwell.” The name tickled some tidbit of information packed far away in his head. </p>
<p> “Yes.” </p>
<p> As if a light switched on, “There’s a famous genetic engineer. Dr. C. Atwell.” A floodgate opened in his mind. “His paper on synthetic protein degradation was the most fascinating work I have read since Kurosawa’s papers on manipulation of embryo DNA.” Words flowed from him in a stream of consciousness. “He was on the forefront of genetic manipulation. There was one paper he wrote. Oh, it was brilliant. Utilizing unflawed DNA strands in the same way as stem cells to fix genetic deformities. It’s a shame he left the field. Last I had heard, he went to work for the World Health Organization. Is that coffee?” Eventually taking a pause to gather his next thoughts, Donatello realized his excitement might have been more intimidating than his features. And coffee, he needed some coffee to keep up his energy and oh it was right there in front of him. </p>
<p> “Oh.” She could have been responding to anything. Her eyes fell to her coffee, then back to him. <br/> When he got overexcited, his brothers always said it was hard to get anything in edge wise. It must have happened again. There was a long pause where she dipped her face behind the mug.  </p>
<p> “Oh, my god you found your ghost.” Dread sunk his stomach to the grass. A man, at least his silhouette, stood at the entrance from the house into the garden.  “And he’s a fanboy. And...a reptile?” </p>
<p> Suddenly she thrust the cup of coffee into his chest and stole the cup from the man who crossed to behind her. Taking a sip, she changed her mind, yanking back the first cup and shoving the other in his hand. “It was actually Doctors Without Borders,” she said into the mug. Fine details were lost with the day’s light. He imagined she might be blushing. She squashed the protests next to her by wrenching his arm painfully back. “You read my papers?” <br/>It would amaze his brothers at how often he could feel stupid. As in completely and utterly idiotic. An example being making the assumption Dr. Atwell had been a man. There had been no sign the doctor was a man or a woman, he’d just assumed...</p>
<p>“You read my papers?” she repeated coarsely. </p>
<p>“Maybe he’s reconsidering being a fanboy. Fan-turtle. Fan...whatever. OW!” She twisted harder. </p>
<p>Questions overwhelmed his mind. Where had she been working? Why did she leave genetics when she was so gifted? Were there more papers? Had she kept working in secret? Who was the guy with her?</p>
<p>As if reading his mind, “Ignore my idiot brother. I do.” </p>
<p>Don’s heart raced wildly. C. Atwell. C. C. </p>
<p>“Carina. Cara. Carin. Whatever.” Reading his mind again.</p>
<p>The spell she held over him broke when his t-phone buzzing in his belt. <em>April’s in trouble.</em> “I-I have to go.” </p>
<p>He stuck out the mug which she scrambled to grab before it spilled all over her, as he backed into the shadows by the gate. Using his bo, Don vaulted over the back gate and was gone. </p>
<hr/>
<p>“Wow,” Chris flicked Carina’s hair into her eyes after the giant turtle disappeared from their yard. “Only you would attract freaks like that.” </p>
<p>Both hands full of coffee she thrust the cup of black unsweetened coffee into her brother’s chest with little regard for his personal safety. “You’re an asshole!” </p>
<p>“You know, if I hadn’t seen him with my own eyes I never would have believed you. Not even a picture. You’d photoshop shit like that to mess with me.” His jabs fell on deaf ears. </p>
<p>Carina inspected the grass where it was still folded down, leaving impressions of where he’d stood. She looked back up into the tree, for whatever had kept his attention, finding nothing very interesting or exciting. </p>
<p>“What’s that?” Dark stains dripped down her brother’s chest. He wiped at it fruitlessly, spreading the stain more than helping. Carina eventually tore herself from the tree back to the yard. A box lay near the sewer grate. “Did you leave tools out here? God, you let them rust I’ll let Dad hand you your...” </p>
<p>Carina shook her head, “He must have left it behind.” </p>
<p>Flipping the cloth off the top they rummaged through the contents but found nothing extraordinary. Assorted parts for engines, electrical components. A hat.  Most of it old and beat to hell, smelling of ancient grease and...garbage. </p>
<p>Chris held up the cloth. “Wow. Ok I kind of need to see a gigantic anthropomorphic turtle in a trench coat.” </p>
<p>“No wonder you got dumped again.” </p>
<p>“How do you-? Never mind.” He kicked at the box in front of her.  “Screw you. Where are you going?” Coffee cups abandoned in the grass Carina jogged back into the house. “We’re putting in the drywall in your room!”</p>
<p>“Be right back.” </p>
<hr/>
<p>The day, night really, had been nothing short of a roller coaster ride. Walking through the sewers helped to clear his head. Don let the subway rumbling swallow his sighs. His brothers long since asleep, Don’s mind foggy and ready for sleep too while he thought back on the night. </p>
<p>“I never said I was in trouble!” April screeched, throwing a swing at Casey between swings at a Foot soldier. “You’re an idiot!” </p>
<p>“That is not exactly news,” Casey grunted. Even Leo winced, knowing April’s strength now. Splinter didn’t just hand out titles or collude with Leo to add just anyone to their clan. Kunoichi. She might have wanted backup, but Casey…  overreacted. Sure, he was trying to make up for the botched lunch and subsequent fight. Casey just wanted to show April he was strong and listened to her needs. Those needs did not include being treated like a damsel in distress. </p>
<p>“No! It’s not!” She grunted back. Conveniently for April, she’d been on her way back to her apartment, van-less thanks to Casey forgetting he’d had the keys when he left to let his girlfriend cool off, after a successful meeting at Alcott Industries when she felt the shadows pass over her. Not see. Definitely felt. </p>
<p>Trailing the Foot was hard without wheels while on the street, sure after rush hour, but she didn’t have time to make it up to the roofs without losing them. She caught up to them after they’d caused an accident with a truck. Fighting in a suit proved difficult. Fortunately, she only had to last a few minutes and the turtles, with Casey, converged on her. Don met them on the way, trying hard to hear them over the gushing wind on the microphone for both him and Leo’s phones. </p>
<p>“How did you get here so fast?” April against a small squad was not going her way. </p>
<p>Donnie smiled. He was smart enough to know what details to and not to include.  Therefore, he did not mention they found her so fast because he could track her cell phone. Useful in an emergency, but still the thought was creepy even to him. </p>
<p>With no idea how many Foot there were to start with Donnie could only estimate that several got away from them based on the mess in the truck. The truck was unmarked on the outside but inside he saw the telltale logo for DN-Tech, a medical equipment and pharmaceutical company, one of many that vied for Winter’s Corp’s share of the market since the ‘untimely’ passing of Mr. Winters.   Of all the corporations, DN-Tech was the one Don considered the most likely to take Winter’s Corp’s spot. Their technological and pharmaceutical advances were leaps and bounds ahead of their competitors. Stock market analysts even predicted they were likely to try a buyout of some Winter’s Corp assets. </p>
<p>There was no time to mull it over or determine what, if anything, went missing. With the Foot effectively disbanded, the driver was coming to, helped along by April, continuing her argument with Casey. </p>
<p>“Do you only ever listen to me when it has to do with other women?” </p>
<p>“What are you even... are you making sense?” </p>
<p>“Use your brain, Jones! Oh, wait!” </p>
<p>And this quickly devolved into a conversation none of them wanted a part of. Don’s offer should have included Casey staying quarantined in the lair no matter what hullabaloo the Foot started. </p>
<p>After the tiny skirmish, Leo insisted on patrolling since they were already out. For another hour plus getting Don back just as his shift started. No one noticed him disappear into his computer lab.</p>
<p>Still without coffee. Suffering through phone call after phone call with minimal amounts of caffeine to keep him awake was more painful than the normal daytime calls. Where he used to just drone his way through the spiel now, he was trying hard not to nod off. But he made it. Kind of made it. He might have nodded off once or twice.  </p>
<p>Finally, with his shift over, he could put away the coat and get the parts....</p>
<p>His box. The coat. Hat. He’d left it in the garden. Dr. Atwell’s garden. </p>
<p>4:45 am. </p>
<p>Ugh. Dawn was approaching. His brothers sleeping soundly, Don decided to just forgo sleep a little longer and get his box when, probably, no one was awake. Then he could be smart and never, ever tell his brothers he’d ever stopped there. Forget about the lovely doctor, forget about the sakura tree. Just get on with his life. Because that was the smart thing to do. </p>
<p>Don knew the sewers better than any of his brothers. Without a map he wound his way straight to the grate in the garden, yawning every few seconds.  There was no manhole, but he could get back up to the roof or over the top of the gate and get to the one in the back alley to get the box down into the sewer. </p>
<p>By the time he climbed out of the sewer, fresh tinges of pale orange were bleeding into the sky. No lights on in the house, though he had no idea if they even had the electricity working properly. His box lay right where he left it, at the edge of the grass. </p>
<p>Unlike how he left it, his trench coat was neatly folded on top. His stomach sank. Lifting the coat off the parts, he found a note with a business card stapled to the corner and, even more incredibly, a bag of coffee. Italian roast. Squeezing the bag, the rich aroma of the ground beans came through the bag. The same as the coffee she’d offered him early in the night. As quietly as he could, Don searched through his parts. Nothing was missing, and there were no obvious trackers. </p>
<p>
  <em>You were wondering what happened. </em>
  <br/>
  <em>C</em>
</p>
<p>The only other thing written on the paper was a website. Suddenly, with his curiosity piqued, he was wide awake, jogging the entire way back once he got out of the yard. </p>
<p>Back in his chair with renewed energy, he plugged the website into the open browser tab. </p>
<p>
  <em>Car’s Greatest Hits</em>
</p>
<p>Charming. A simple personal website with videos embedded as he scrolled.  There were no tags or titles for the videos, but he saw a banner in the still frame: “2014 Biotech Conference”. Assuming the top video was the newest, he clicked.</p>
<p>It was a shaky cellphone video. </p>
<p>“I remember that conference.” He thought aloud, tapping the keys absently, “Something happened at it.” </p>
<p>“Hey,” the low voice only vaguely familiar from the man with Dr. Atwell in the garden. Her brother? “Dad will be proud!” </p>
<p>Dr. Atwell smiled warmly at the camera. Her suit crisp, perfectly tailored for her, but she was still pulling at it and adjusting it to no end. Her brother’s hand shot out and smacked away her hand as she tried to tug on the coat again. </p>
<p>She nodded nervously. Golden highlights shimmered in her hair then. Five years she only appeared to have changed cosmetically. He soaked in every detail, cataloguing what was different. For science. Of course. </p>
<p>“Nice theories!” A man, still out of frame, called to her. There were several older men he vaguely recognized. They kept to themselves as the man out of frame continued, “Maybe you can submit them to Cosmo!” </p>
<p>All her happy nervous smiles and adjusting stopped abruptly. </p>
<p>“Don’t bother! Isn’t she just one of those science sluts? Gold digging...?” Laughter cut out the other insults. Her lips pressed together in a hard line. Her brother moved just enough to see the men throwing insults. Don finally recognized the trio of scientists in the background. Dr. Josh Roberts, Dr. Steven Levine and Dr. Thomas Parker. They were...incredible. Close to the best in the geneticist’s world. No, Dr. Kurosawa. With them, and who seemed to make the most remarks he recognized Mitch Goetz, PhD student of Dr. Levine’s. Presumably the others with him were students as well. But Goetz, he knew would go on to become the father of 3-D models utilized for drug designs. </p>
<p>“Oh boy. Hey don’t...and there goes your pride.” Her brother tried valiantly to stop her with his words and nothing else. </p>
<p>Dr. Atwell turned angrily on the group as they continued their catcalling and names while the other esteemed doctors did nothing. “Hey! I have a PhD, motherfucker! That’s because my papers don’t have mathematical errors on page fucking two!” She’d dropped her bag as the first stalked to her. “What? Need help remembering how to multiply? Cause if that’s so you’re never passing your defense!” </p>
<p>“Fuck all your professors to get your degree?” </p>
<p>Her brother sighed into the microphone as the first punch flew. “And there goes your career,” he moaned. Each hit landed her brother made a new sound effect. He never went to help, just filmed the entire ordeal. Calmly. Security came rushing through the crowd, separating the two scientists. </p>
<p>Dr. Atwell returned, blood dripping down her nose, blotches staining her white blouse. “Good thing you have your M.D.” Another hand stretched out from behind the camera with a tissue. Dr. Atwell glared at her brother  through the camera. Security had split up, half approaching her and half approaching the students and their mentors. “Dad might be a little less impressed now.” </p>
<p>She flipped off the camera and the image froze. </p>
<p>“Right. That conference.” The headline flashed in his mind, “Scientists gone wild,” but no one could get ahold of any video footage of what had happened and all the witness statements were full of no comments. “Huh.” Don’s grin widened as he hit play again. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I would like to add a note: There is harassment of women in science, not to the degree depicted in this chapter. As an engineer I actually experienced worse harassment in the music industry and not engineering. Not that I didn't get shit for being a woman in engineering, I did. Mostly it boiled down to "I was a woman I couldn't know what I was talking about" by someone younger than me who had never been in the field (I hadn't done much field work but more than him and schooled him on said real world situations). </p>
<p>That's my spiel. This is a work of fiction and it was just something I wanted in there to showcase why the character left the field and her temperament.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Dishes, fugus and research papers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Wow! I got really focused on my Heart of Gold rewrites and then the best surprise came! Someone commented on this fic and right when I'd been rereading it! I'd had this chapter rewritten for a while but just spent the last several days editing and polishing. It's so hard for me to bounce between fics but I swear I haven't forgone this one. I love both of them, this one just happens to be so much longer than the Heart of Gold series. But that comment really propelled me to polish this chapter up and get it out, so thank you so much again! &lt;3 </p>
<p>Note: I have pretty much deviated from the original movies/2007 movie. If I remember correctly Stockman was not part of the original moves (which I believe the 2007 movie is supposed to be a sequel to those movies). TCRI and StockGen came from other TMNT media (including both comics and television shows). So, I'm pretty much just mashing certain aspects together but that's fine. Hopefully within the story everything is self explanatory, or will be by the end of the series (assuming I get there). </p>
<p>Usual warnings: Lots of swearing (wow this happens a lot in both my fics). Really that's the only warning. Next chapter will have more warnings.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Don should be well rested. He didn’t have a work shift last night after they patrolled to keep him up and irritated. Just a relaxing night falling asleep at the workbench, wildly distracted while he fixed a cell phone by analyzing scientific papers. Maybe the combination of a long sparring session and an even longer patrol sapped his energy. This was the equivalent of his ‘weekend’, but in the middle of the week. Or maybe he just wanted to be home again. Reading more papers. But here he was, back on patrol again, dragging with the last reserves of his energy. </p>
<p>Raph lead them around in circles during patrol to give Casey an excuse to stay out a little longer no matter how many times one of them suggested, “You can’t avoid her forever.” </p>
<p>“I’m not avoiding April. I got real important...work to do.” </p>
<p>Stoically Raph kept them going in circles until it tired him leaving Casey with little choice than to face the music at home. </p>
<p>Raph took Casey to the side, “Look man, she’s not gonna stick around if you don’t talk to her.”</p>
<p>“Cause I’m real good at talking.” </p>
<p>“Look who y’er talkin’ to.” Raph rubbed at his head, sending the tails of his mask flying higher in the wind. “But if I had a woman like that waiting around for me at home I’d do whate’er it took to keep her with me. Includin’ talkin’ about feelin’s and stuff.” </p>
<p>“And the dishes.” Leo commented, loudly. </p>
<p>They all shared a snicker, even Casey, as Raph ground his teeth. “And the dishes,” he added begrudgingly. “And maybe clean up all your shit.”</p>
<p>“That’s a lot of,” Casey shrunk under Raph’s glare. “Ok. Yeah, man. You’re right.” </p>
<p>Donnie didn’t say it to his brothers, but he already knew April was past the lunch incident. She’d been past it for days now, but Casey fixated on how he’d screwed up and she was letting him have his space. Still, April was not really a fan of Casey’s friends. </p>
<p>So, when they got home, after Mikey talked them into several rounds of video games, Don retired to his computer lab, not his bed, to return to the world of genetics. Honestly, the papers were so much more than he’d understood even a few years ago. Her theories could revolutionize treatments of so many illnesses.</p>
<p>Her last paper focused on genetic diseases of the eye, specifically. Retinitis pigmentosa the primary example, a disease that degenerative disease of the retina that eventually leads to vision loss. She’d worked to decode which genes cause the disease and more investigated a cure. With computer simulation. Like all her papers, no way to test the theories. Well, there were they were just unethical and, as far as he remembered, illegal. </p>
<p> Buried somewhere in there, her deeply in tune understanding of the human body, he wondered…</p>
<p>In the blink of an eye, Leo woke him in his computer chair the next morning with a cup of coffee. He’d fallen asleep re-reading Dr. Atwell’s papers. Leo took one look, tried sounding out half the words and gave up. </p>
<p>Leo complained, ad nauseam, about Donnie being distracted. Raph and Mikey blamed his lack of sleep. </p>
<p>“You know how he gets.” Raph mumbled about projects, and the mess of wires Don carried around attempting to repair. Leo snapping him back to reality more than once during their sparring session. </p>
<p>That snap. “Oh. OH!” Donnie didn’t even look back. Snapping. Branches. Fungus. </p>
<p>Somehow that train of thought led to another, more gruesome thought. Snapping bones. Enhanced bones. Enhanced…well…anything would be useful. Enhanced eyesight. Eyesight. Goggles. </p>
<p>This all circled him back to Dr. Atwell and her papers. He’d custom built plenty of gadgets over his lifetime to fit their unique anatomy. Donnie’s favorite being a pair of goggles he could magnify or power on for added light and, the best part, infrared. He’d taken them out on a few scouting missions but found he needed to do something about their durability.  </p>
<p>The filter durability! The lens. Just like the eye has Ciliary muscles that hold the lens in place, which can snap and cause the eye’s lens to float free into the eye, his own goggles needed more durable ‘Ciliary muscles’ to hold its lens’ in place. Something strong, but that had give, not full rigidity. But higher tensile strength than what he’d previously used. His were essentially the same as IR goggles on the market, and they contained the same design flaw. </p>
<p>By the time Donnie looked up again from his workbench, he’d formed a plan and had fully dismantled his goggles. Sure enough, broken lens and broken filter. He hadn’t taken that hard of a hit but the goggles couldn’t handle it.  </p>
<p>Time was against him. He’d have to rush to finish the other plan today. </p>
<p>“Where are you off to?” Mikey frowned at the box Donnie carried and hoodie he wore. </p>
<p>“Need more parts and going grocery shopping.” Chugging the last of the coffee, he hid a grin. No one questioned where the coffee came from. Only Don and Leo drank coffee regularly, anyway. But it was far better than what he normally found at the bodegas or corner shops. Probably well out of his normal grocery price range. </p>
<p>“Don,” Leo started from the table, watching the news much to Mikey’s annoyance, “isn’t that a little reckless? It’s still pretty light out.” </p>
<p>“April found a new shop. Owner’s legally blind. I’ve been —” </p>
<p>From the television the female new anchor’s crisp words cut into their conversation, “The newest threat or the newest vigilantes solving the city’s crime problem.” Stopping, they all turned to the TV.</p>
<p>“The Ghouls have hit back at crime, specifically in the Chinatown district, leaving residents confused. No eyewitnesses have come forward except for known associates of the Vizioso family. They claimed two members of the Ghouls, wearing studded masks featuring a warped version of facial features, attacked them at their father, Don Vizioso’s, restaurant. One suffered a broken jaw and is expected to make a full recovery. Vizioso and his children have declined to comment, as did others in the community prompting questions. Are the Ghouls aiding the citizens of New York or are the carving out their own territory, readying themselves to start a new gang turf war?” </p>
<p>“Brings back memories,” Raph quipped, rustling Mikey’s shoulder. Diversion enough for Raph to steal a handful of popcorn. </p>
<p>“Nightmares.” Leo chastised. “Brings back nightmares. First the Nightwatcher, now this.” None of them particularly wanted to be stopping a gang turf war. Vizioso and his family versus the Purple Dragons was enough of a problem. Getting up to join his brothers at the couch, Leo snatched the popcorn Raph tossed in the air. </p>
<p>“Hey, I told ya. Crime don’t wait for us ta get there.”</p>
<p>“Eloquent, Raph. Do we really need to have this conversation again?” </p>
<p>Don took their distraction as a sign to leave. </p>
<p>“Do you really have to go out when it’s still light?” Leo sighed. “Come on, night time is dangerous enough. It can wait.” </p>
<p>Raph, however, wasn’t having Leo’s bossiness. “Of all turtles, is it really D that needs a lecture?” Sticking up for Donnie was not Raph’s specialty, but he’d been getting plenty of practice with Leo. Raph jabbed his thumb back at the microwave left open with layers of burnt and yet still bubbling cheese dripping from the turntable while Mikey stuffed handfuls of popcorn in his mouth, more bits and pieces of that falling on the floor and couch around him.</p>
<p>Exasperated, Don said, “I’m leaving. Unless you don’t want the van operation anytime soon?”</p>
<p>Raph dived on top of Leo, playfully wrapping him in a headlock. Don didn’t need to hear it, but could guess it was coming, “Bet he’s back before dinner.”</p>
<p>Leo grappled his way out of the headlock, “Dishes for three days says he’s not.”</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Leo was right, of course. Going out in the day made it exponentially harder not to be seen. He mulled over location the longest, there was only one alley he needed to get to. Late afternoon sun and crowded streets meant he couldn’t just stay in the alleys for his recon. The shadows were so far back he’d be in the alley's corner with little maneuverability and a single line of sight. Higher was better. Except jumping roofs during the day was not advisable. People could easily see him from windows, plus sometimes people hung out or worked on rooftops. Which left him only one option. </p>
<p>Once he was out of the lair and sure to stay in a dry tunnel, away from wading calf deep in sewer water, he slipped on the oversized pants. </p>
<p>Mikey was far more observant than their brothers gave him credit for. For example, Mikey noticed the pants, giving Don a funny look, but hadn’t noticed the bulges under the pants in the box. If he had, questions would have flown out at lightning speed. Donnie leaving not fully dressed appeared strange but not totally unheard of. Their preferred path to the junkyard, when only on foot, included wading in ‘water’ up to their knees. Just because they were turtles didn’t mean they enjoyed water logged clothing. </p>
<p>Emerging from the manhole, Don slid the box out of his way. “Hey, Al,” he quietly beckoned to a man who may or may not have been sleeping behind the dumpster. A strangled reply came from the shadows. So, Don set a bag with wrapped up leftovers from lunch, half a sandwich and fruit slices Mikey wouldn’t touch. Bags rustled as the hat clad sleeping bag shifted to uncover a man. “Want to run an errand for me? Give you an extra $10 for your trouble?” </p>
<p>“You still wearing that funny costume?” </p>
<p>“A guy’s gotta work.” The first time Al had seen Mikey, he’d been on his way to a job as Cowabunga Carl. Mikey shared the leftover cake he’d gotten from a party that morning, since it was a busy Saturday. Al couldn’t tell the difference between them or if he could, it didn’t matter much to the guy. He never called Don by a name, just referenced his ‘suit.’ <br/>
Al eyed him warily. A song and dance Don happily played for the ability to multitask. Finally, he nodded. Don handed over his list and the cash. “Buy what’s on the list and the change is all yours.” </p>
<p>“Gonna be exact again, ain’t it?” </p>
<p>Don nodded and tucked his box into Al’s blankets after he vacated. “I’ll watch your stuff. Whistle when you’re back.” Slowly Al ambled out of the alley, bracing himself against the sun and throngs of New Yorkers. When he was out of sight Don wound his way up the fire escape. From the roof, the tallest one on the block, Don checked for any residents hiding out before swinging up. He circled by the roof access door. Locked. Add to that the lack of any garbage and undisturbed gravel near the door told him he was probably safe up here for a while. Fortune shined on him, the tallest roof on the street not far from his target. As long as he didn’t stray too close to the edges, he was less likely to be seen. Hood up and baggy clothes, he’d just look mostly like a guy hanging around. </p>
<p>Easing himself closer to the street facing side of the roof, Don checked out the surrounding businesses. The junkyard at this time of day was one thing, fairly safe other than workers but the commute there, without the van, would have taken much longer possibly even until the yard was closed for the night with only security remaining. Here, he was much more exposed. </p>
<p>He found the generic clinic sign across from him. The door boasting two doctor’s names and a small paper sign with hours of operation. A few people came in or out. The window shades down to prevent the setting sun from blinding those inside. The clinic was small. About the same size as the restaurants on the block, none of which had room for many tables or occupants. </p>
<p>The business card had listed office hours until 5 pm on Wednesdays. The longer he sat there watching the slower people trickled out until 35 minutes after the clinic was supposed to close he glimpsed Dr. Atwell’s brother walking right up to the door and waiting until his sister came out and locked up. She really did work there. The brother and sister talked casually; her jumping on his back and wrapping her arms around his neck. He couldn’t fight her off and sulked, carrying her all the way to a restaurant down the block.</p>
<p>A sharp whistle pierced the early evening. Peering over the alley side of the roof, he saw Al had returned with bags and started digging in his own bag. </p>
<p>Don climbed back down via the fire escapes, shifting his box onto his shoulder, and carried the bags. “Thank you.” He’d rolled up the bottom of his pants before lowering himself into the sewers again and moved on to his next stop. </p>
<p>Minutes later Don climbed back out of the sewer outside the gate. He estimated he’d have as long as dinner took the doctor to eat before he’d hear any signs of them returning. He could be quick.</p>
<p>Hopping over the gate with both the bags and box proved difficult but necessary. He came dangerously close to losing the fruit but wasn’t willing to risk the integrity of all the food by placing it in the box with his other package. In case of a spill.</p>
<p>After he landed, Don swept around the yard and outside the house. Silent and still. Did he really expect Foot to just pop out of nowhere? Leo really had crept in and made a home in his mind. </p>
<p>A ladder sat outside the back door to the garden. Perfect! Squaring it against the tree, Don climbed into the limbs. He treated this like one of Leo’s stealth missions, trying not to disturb the heavy branches with buds to give them no reason to fall off the tree.</p>
<p>Up close and with just enough daylight left to see clearly he noted the black, brittle branches with no buds. A white powdery substance on some branches, which weren’t brittle but were budless, also stood out. </p>
<p>Interesting. He felt good about being prepared with an antifungal for flowering trees. Swapping out the full sprayer that he’d hidden under his pants, he put the groceries safely in the box and climbed back into the tree. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Carina hopped happily around in circles, poking at Chris. “You’re never going to learn.” </p>
<p>“She ghosted me. What do I need....?” </p>
<p>“Right, well you ghosted that Linda chick a couple weeks back.” </p>
<p>“So?” </p>
<p>Her plastic bag swung around as she hopped, “Ryu looked them up. They’ve been friends for, like, ten years. Maybe longer.” Chris groaned. Good. Because his pathetic situation made perfect sense. He got stood up at the same restaurant he’d told Linda they were going to when he just ’couldn’t go through with it.’ “You should just give up dating all together. Be an old cat man.” </p>
<p>“Desperately living with his idiotic twin sister, who is more annoying than cats. Actually, the cat thing sounds pretty good. I’ll just kick you out and live with lots of cats.” </p>
<p>“The cats would abandon you for lack of affection...and, you know, constantly ghosting them.” </p>
<p>“If I recall someone had an important errand to run in Little Italy the night I had the date with Linda.” </p>
<p>Carina made a mad dash for Chris, snatching his keys right as he went to unlock their front door. “I never asked for help with the errand.” He’d call her childish anyway, so she stuck out her tongue. You know, for good measure. </p>
<p>“You, of all people, should not be left to your own devices. Backup. Always bring backup.” </p>
<p>She mouthed ‘backup’ back at him like it was the most ridiculous thing he had ever said. “Do you think I never run errands without you?” He lashed out, making wild grabs for the keys she swung out of reach just before his fingers closed around them. Judging by the look on his face, Chris once again regretted moving in with her. Well, that was his own idiocy. He agreed. He could man up and deal with the consequences. </p>
<p>“Don’t say that kind of shit to me! You better not be!” He went to grab her by the waist and missed. Missing again when he swung went for her arm too. She finally stuck the key in the lock and let him turn it, ending their annoying little dance. Grumbling, Chris closed the door. “People always say men never grow up,” and he added a heavy sigh, just to prove how exasperated he was with her. Carina responded in the only acceptable way. She made faces and rude gestures until he added, “You’re the case for proving women don’t either.” </p>
<p>They still only had limited electricity, now well over a month into their move back to New York. Electricity in all its glorious, modern forms, worked in the bathroom. That was it. The one room with no cords running around the floor and snaking around the ceiling. And only there because it was the easiest to wire up, closest to the breaker box. Cords still snaked around the living room and kitchen. Chris felt for the counter to dump his takeout while she stumbled around looking for the foot switch to turn on the work lights. </p>
<p>When she didn’t switch the lights on fast enough Chris came looking for her. </p>
<p>“Shh.” Carina whispered. Chris ran right into her, catching her before she fell. “Were you working in the tree today?” </p>
<p>“Yes, well, see I like to get my ass as high as I can in the tree and get terrible WiFi signal while I make highly time dependent trades,” he hissed. Reaching back, she smacked him in the head as she pointed. “Ok, yeah, I didn’t leave the ladder against the tree. I was patching the roof.” She must have heard him wrong, so she raised her eyebrows at him, “I tried patching the roof!” Better. Or, rather, more accurate. Chris swore, “Shit. I’ll get...”</p>
<p>Shushing him again, Carina pointed to the back of the yard where a box sat. “Yay, our new pest’s back. Turtle’s never struck me as pests until now.” She wanted to smack him again. Her long day didn’t need more sarcasm than she already got.</p>
<p>No matter how much she searched the shadows, Carina couldn’t find a sign he was in the yard.  </p>
<p>Chris scanned the yard too. “He got here fast. Thought he would follow us from the clinic to the restaurant.” </p>
<p>“Yeah.” She’d noticed his hoodie just before the clinic should close. </p>
<p>He’d sat around for a while watching the door. If she’d thought he’d been there to hurt her, she would have called Chris sooner instead of opting to text him a few minutes before he’d walk out the door to pick her up and warning him to leave her shadow alone. From the middle of the room, they couldn’t really see the entire yard. His box was there, but no turtle. “Where...?” Twilight time didn’t help. He could still be in the tree. The clothes he’d worn and the deep green of his skin giving him camouflage. </p>
<p>“Want to mess with him?” She shook her head. Chris and his sour attempts at giving her a ‘taste of her own medicine,’, pun completely intended. He shouted, “Oh my god! I think someone broke in! We should call the police!” Carina wheeled on him again, this time punching him in the arm. “Damn it! Would have been more worth it if that damn pest fell out of the tree.”</p>
<p>Carina stomped out of the house and into the yard as he ground out, “Shouldn’t have given my coffee away.” </p>
<p>Chris saw, locked eyes with her, in the darkening evening turn as she hissed, “I hate Italian roast!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, well, I love it.” Rubbing his arm after she turned back toward the garden. “See if you’ll be able to reach the coffee without a step stool ever again.” </p>
<p>“I heard that.”</p>
<p>“Wasn’t hiding it!” </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Breathing into a rag amplified the noise. But Donnie took good long pauses in his breathing to spray the tree. He wished he’d built a full respirator mask to fit him years ago. The tools and materials were a little harder to come by then, money more so. He could only imagine the potential damage he had already done to his lungs. His understanding of their entire biology had come a long way. From what he had gathered, Donnie was fairly certain their respiratory system, along with their cardiovascular, could withstand higher stress than the average human, but without the option of professional medical opinion he didn’t want to risk it. Funny thinking about professional medical opinions sitting in a doctor’s tree.</p>
<p>Then he heard shouts from inside the house. Don stopped spraying and sat motionless in the tree. He’d assumed he’d have more time to himself. Takeout was not anticipated. </p>
<p>Angrily, Dr. Atwell stomped into the yard, turning every few seconds to respond to an unseen voice. She was still carrying a plastic bag weighed down with takeout containers. </p>
<p>Damn. He’d only had a few more branches left. “I wouldn’t suggest sitting under the tree to eat.” </p>
<p>She stopped and dropped the containers on the edge of the walkway surrounding their tiny lawn. “I thought I’d scared you away.” After a second she sneered, “Actually, I thought Chris scared you away. I wouldn’t blame you. He’s downright terrifying. It is a literal nightmare to wake up to sharing a room with him every morning.”</p>
<p>“It will be!” Her brother, who now he had a name, yelled back. </p>
<p>Donnie chuckled. The familiar feeling of bickering siblings, something he was simultaneously surrounded and annoyed by at home, felt warm. “I meant to be in and out before you got home,” he admitted quietly. Minutes were all he’d needed to finish before she’d returned home. “That wouldn’t have ended your career,” Donnie mused before she could comment further on his return. All part of the plan. If he’d run into the good doctor, talk as little as possible and divulge nothing about his family. Then, seriously, never return. He could see the blossoms from a rooftop. Snapping a dead branch from its limb, he held onto a healthy limb to pass it down to her as she leaned into the ladder. </p>
<p>“No,” she mused right back, accepting the twig. Looking past him into the tree, Don’s appearance must have surprised her because she snapped her attention back to him and his clothes. Don responded by shaking the sprayer. Nodding, Carina meandered around the yard as she said, “But it made me realize I didn’t want to deal with that every day. Some of those scientists are real little bitches.” Flicking the top of her takeout container, he nodded it was safe to eat. With lightning speed she snatched up the fork, pierced a dumpling, and shoved it in her mouth. </p>
<p>“Who was a little bitch?” Chris said from the doorway, only half listening while he read the newspaper. </p>
<p>“Dr. Goetz.” Carina replied. Carina? No first names. No getting close, that would only make the inevitable heartbreak hurt even more.  </p>
<p>“Oh,” her brother replied  “Yeah, he was a little bitch.” As he held the newspaper in his hands wide open to fold and drop it next to his sister, Chris sighed. She scanned the top article quickly, frowning at her second dumpling. </p>
<p>“Oh.” Carina bit the plastic fork, pensive. “‘Dr. Mitch Goetz, of Cooper Union, found dead at 31’. I guess I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” She brushed her hands clean along the sides of her scrubs, well cleaner. She sat up and handed Donnie the paper so he could read. Dr. Goetz, though Don knew a lot about his work with 3 dimensional models, wouldn’t be a household name to many, even in the scientific community. His death garnered a small article at the end of the local news section, more about the loss to Cooper Union than his loss to the scientific community. Dr. Atwell popped up next to the newspaper with another dumpling on the end of a fork, offering it to him. His stomach betraying him with a single rumble, so he accepted the fork. Dinner was fast approaching, but his family worked on a schedule that was a little later than the average New Yorker to accommodate their late evening patrolling. Not that he kept any semblance of a regular schedule. He couldn’t remember if he’d eaten lunch. </p>
<p>“I mean,” her voice jolted him back to the newspaper and uneaten dumpling. With his own thoughts on pause, Leo’s crept back in telling him the food was a trick or poisoned, but the rational part of his mind told him she’d been eating the dumplings in front of him with zero side effects. “He was a little bitch. I was working on my doctorate and first met him, I always attributed that crappy attitude of Goetz’s to his first adviser but I heard after he got a new adviser he was exactly the same.” </p>
<p>“Who was his first adviser?” Donnie took a tentative bite, hoping it looked natural and not like he was testing the dumpling for poison. It tasted fine. The worst thing that would have happened is if Mikey ate it and realized it contained vegetables. </p>
<p>She was laying back in the grass  takeout container next to her while she fished around with her fork, randomly stabbing around for another dumpling. She answered after successfully finding a dumpling, “Dr. Baxter Stockman, lunatic.” </p>
<p>“Lunatic?” Chris shrieked. “Man had no screws left. He was a fucking crackpot.” </p>
<p>Dr. Atwell shot up, cackling wildly at the validation, “Coming from the mouth of a non-scientist.” She stabbed around, fishing for any of the few remaining dumplings then collapsed back into the grass.</p>
<p>Oh, Don and his brothers had intimate knowledge of how many screws Stockman had left. </p>
<p>Stockman’s death, or rather ‘death’, came at the expense of New York. An explosion at StockGen’s factory, definitely not aided by him and his brothers and the Foot Clan, caused a huge chemical leak that threatened half of New York. Stockman as a person no one seemed to miss him much. Dr. Atwell only confirmed what he already suspected.</p>
<p>“But again, I shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.” </p>
<p>
  <em>Supposedly dead.</em>
</p>
<p>“Those two were made for each other, Goetz and Stockman. Two peas wrapped in a self absorbed, misogynistic pod. Screws on both of ‘em lost during assembly.” The vehemence from her brother intrigued Donnie. Chris must have set up the website to showcase his sister’s most embarrassing moments, in the first video he watched Chris never put much effort into stopping or helping her fight with Goetz, but - maybe it made sense. Siblings. Was he assuming because Dr. Atwell was a woman that they wouldn’t bicker as much as him and his brothers?</p>
<p>“Wait,” Dr. Atwell sat up fast again, hitting her hand on the bottom rung, “Oh my god, I’m sorry! You knew him?” </p>
<p>“Sorry?” Donnie needed to replay the last few seconds quickly to figure out how she could know. Did he let on? Make a face? He always made faces when he shouldn’t. Rolled his eyes, grimaced. It was hard not to when everything around him conspired to exasperate him. </p>
<p>“Was that how...?” </p>
<p>“Hmm?” Don tried to keep his tone even.  </p>
<p>“Working with Stockman?”</p>
<p>He was so confused. “Working?”  </p>
<p>“Well, you’re a scientist.” </p>
<p>The proverbial lightbulb turning on. “Ah, no. Thank you! That is very - no, we were children when all this...” And there went his coordination with his ability to form words and coherent sentences. Donnie stumbled over the bottom rung, running right into her. </p>
<p>“Oh, I just assumed, no I mean I thought it might have happened in Stockman’s lab. I mean the accident.” She stammered. Endearing, clumsy stammering while she helped him regain his footing, regained her own footing. </p>
<p>“Well, it was an accident.” </p>
<p>“Some accident.” Her brother! Had he still been there the entire time? Don seriously questioned whether Dr. Atwell had a detrimental effect on his awareness of his surroundings. </p>
<p>“You’re an accident!” She shot across the patch of grass at her brother, sending him careening back into the house. He even locked the door behind him, leaving a literally hopping mad Dr. Atwell. One more huff and she said, “Dad didn’t want twins. I’m sorry.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine. It-it’s an honor that a doctor of such high esteem would think...” </p>
<p>Chris snorted at them through the door, “Esteem. Good one.”</p>
<p>“God!” Carina, Dr. Atwell, rushed back to bang on the door.  </p>
<p>Twilight again. This time he fumbled with the strings of his hoodie. He wanted, needed to deflect the attention from him and find his out, “Why are you running a clinic?” It was the most pertinent question he could think of that didn’t get too personal. Google didn’t come up with much when he tried to find out what countries she’d worked in and other than the one fight at the conference he couldn’t find any other information about Dr. Atwell. </p>
<p>She calmed down and turned to him. </p>
<p>“It’s just...not very theoretical and your papers were groundbreaking," he added. They were the very papers he studied, memorized, all with looking for a way to fix their unique predicament. Reverse the effects, revert their DNA to their pre-mutagen mutation. Eventually he realized that would leave them as turtles and a rat, never human. This existence was preferable to that. </p>
<p>“Ah.” She wound a slow path back to him, weaving around the far side of the tree. “Does more good than sitting around talking about theories that I wouldn’t be able to test. Legally test.” Another extended pause as she circled the ladder. Calculated coolness and adherence to a moral code, he’d found, looked much different than the iciness of a scientist testing their theories. The difference boiled down to warmth. Cool decision making versus maniacal determination. “I’d rather fix a broken arm for a kid than sit around a computer all day.” Donnie felt warmth. </p>
<p>A buzz rattled against his shell. Mikey responding to a text he’d sent promising to chip in for a video game if Mikey helped Raph win the bet. Sure enough, Mikey’d sent a picture of Leo starting to cook dinner. “I have to go.” </p>
<p>“Another emergency?” </p>
<p>“Dinner.” </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It made sense. It actually made perfect sense. Raph and Leo bickered like a married couple. Mikey hid next to Splinter watching his shows with him, not really paying attention too much other than making comparisons to himself. A bickering couple on the show. At the moment Raph mirrored the wife telling Leo he was doing everything wrong. Leo mirrored the husband, right down to the floral apron and cooking. Mikey agreed with Raph. The entire lair smelt of burning chicken. Leo definitely was doing something wrong. </p>
<p>“I followed the instructions,” Leo complained. </p>
<p>“The flame is too high,” Raph commented back.  </p>
<p>“It said medium high.” Their ancient cookbook sat dangerously close to the sink and stovetop. </p>
<p>
  <em>Which way will it go? Burnt to a crisp with dinner or sunk with frying pan while it soaks off the burnt bits?</em>
</p>
<p>“That is pretty much at high. Gonna be raw in the middle.” </p>
<p>“It’s not gonna be-“ Leo hmph’d and sighed. Mikey glanced over again and saw Leo’d cut into the chicken. Pink and raw inside, dark brown, or as some might call it black, on the outside. </p>
<p>The lair doors opened and Donnie jogged in with his box filled with groceries. Ah, the Raph-Leo show got a new guest star! Mikey turned around to give Don a grin of approval. He made it back just under the wire. That video game was as good as his! </p>
<p>“Aaaaand I will get to hand off dishes to you tonight, oh Fearless Leader.” Raph cackled.</p>
<p>Whipping back around, Leo groaned a second time. </p>
<p>“Set the oven to 375.” Don passed the box to Raph and took a single bag with the clothes he’d taken out for his trip. Mikey grinned even more because if he wasn’t too mistaken, Don had a little spring in his step. “Bake it for at least fifteen minutes and check the internal temperature. I’m going to take a shower.” </p>
<p>“Yeah, get on it, Leo,” Raph continued to snicker openly, and kept going when Leo threw a towel at him. </p>
<p>Snickering turned to snarling at each other after Leo threw a wet sponge, but only until Splinter whipped his tail against a pillow and bellowed, “I cannot hear my shows!”</p>
<p>Raph kept up the jabs, quieter now, while he put the groceries away. </p>
<p>“What’s with that face?” Raph growled at Mikey.  </p>
<p>Mikey ducked a swipe from Raph instead taking the wooden box and turning it over. Empty.  </p>
<p>“Something’s up with D.” He shrugged. </p>
<p>“What’cha talkin’ about?”</p>
<p>“He went to the junkyard and didn’t bring anything back.” </p>
<p>Raph grabbed the box back and spun it out of boredom. Stopping the box midway through a revolution, Raph turned back to the kitchen and realized he’d put everything away in the box. No parts, no broken gadgets, no tools, no...nothing. </p>
<p>Mikey gasped, startling Raph. “You think he’s finally making us jet packs?” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks again for reading! I will have more coming, especially now that my short story is done for a local writing group anthology (just another thing that had been on my plate taking up time). I hope you enjoyed because I really loved how this chapter came out. &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. An off night for Casey Jones</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author's Notes: As promised this chapter gets a bit more violent than the last few. Also, Mikey makes a joke about his brothers but I am making the warning now: there is no t-cest in this fic. He is making a silly joke, that is all, just to get under his brother's skin.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>April’s text caught Casey off guard. </p>
<p>
  <em>Meeting running long. Rain check? </em>
</p>
<p>There went the night out they’d had planned. Wasn’t really much of a plan. Dinner at some restaurant he couldn’t pronounce the name of while he secretly dreamed of pizza or Chinese food and a movie on the couch. </p>
<p>Neck ties seriously made him claustrophobic. Fancy restaurants? Couldn't care less. Pizza and beer, all he needed for the best night in with his girl. Maybe a Rangers game without them sucking to add a cherry on top. </p>
<p>But staying in without April didn’t feel right. He needed to get out. Do something productive. </p>
<p>April had been working overtime with a new client hunting down an artifact. Or was it an art piece? He couldn’t remember. She would probably head out of the country again soon, and who knew how long she’d be gone. Between the long meetings and the time she took to train with Splinter, their actual time spent together, alone, on non-work related affairs kept dwindling, something that living together would never fix.  Their apartment became a second office and some nights she’d work until she passed out leaving Casey to his own devices.</p>
<p>First up he checked in on the kids around the neighborhood, play a game or two of street hockey that left him stiff. Next up: circle the neighborhoods. Casey swung the bat overhead as far back as possible then forward again, working on loosening up his shoulders. Productivity needed a decent warm up.</p>
<p>Lately he’d followed the crime wave out of his neighborhood and back to Chinatown, and that brought him right back to Carina. She’d picked a hell of a neighborhood to move into. He worried about her. Tiny little doc. </p>
<p>Casey got it. Call it sentimentality, or the drive to go where she was needed most. Carina returned to where Doc K started his clinic. The exact spot, the exact building, at a time when Chinatown needed the help most. </p>
<p>From his vantage point on the roof, Casey saw their place down the street. Lights finally working in all the rooms. He wasn’t no electrician, but he knew enough to help Chris run the wires and conduit. Drywall, that was his expertise. A skill he gained after many, many years of practice.</p>
<p>Casey sighed. Something’d been brewing. Something big. Raph kept saying Leo’d been on edge since his return, going on about Shredder and the Foot and stuff, but they’d barely seen hide nor hair of the Foot except that whole Winters’ affair and when April followed them to a warehouse. Those two instances after years without a trace of the Foot. Clearly they were still around. Planning and plotting but not anything like how they’d been. Not anything big in his opinion. </p>
<p>But that one minor change, the Foot vanishing, was enough to throw the streets off. Vizioso and the Dragons, always at each other’s throats before, had practically started a war. Everything, all the good they’d done before, wiped out in a few weeks' time. </p>
<p>Nice having the turtles back, patrolling and helping out except Leo’s Foot obsession made it a lot less helpful than it sounded. Leo had them looking into everything the Foot ever touched, leaving zero time for actual, honest to God, helping people! Casey didn’t blame him. Five people weren’t realistically going to wipe out an entire gang on their own. Just like they probably would never completely end the Foot, they’d just all hoped that with Shredder gone a new leader wouldn’t care about the blood feud any longer and pack up for Japan again. They could spend all their time fighting crime here and never put a dent in the Purple Dragons. Their hold was that strong. He had plenty of firsthand experience. Because of his dad.</p>
<p>Casey shook his pathetic excuse for family from his head and took to following the line of buildings down the block. Down here the tacky lights associated with Chinatown faded. The crowds thinned during his patrol, trickling to only workers at the fishmongers. All the other businesses were closed down for the night. A shipment of fish just came from the docks. Trucks kept rolling in to line up at the back of the warehouse, preparing to ship fish to restaurants all over the city.  </p>
<p>Fewer people, fewer cars, more space between buildings meant more open air for sound to reverberate. Before he saw it, Casey heard it. Strangled cries cut short then sounding again. Hauling ass across roofs, way harder than the turtles made it look, Casey slid down the ladder at the fishy warehouse to the sidewalk, dashing past the electronics warehouse that sold knockoff TVs. He was getting closer, but not close enough. Where were they? Thuds, he could hear them now, and jeers meant the fight took a more violent turn.</p>
<p>Casey turned a corner and found them. Three Purple Dragons, that damn metallic purple embroidered jacket shiny enough to be recognizable in the pitch black alley, surrounding a kid. Initiation rites. A kid. God, a fucking kid! High school age, if that. A scrawny thing compared to the hulking masses behind him.  </p>
<p>They taunted the kid as he slammed his fist into the man’s face. Blood slicked the rolling door, the man’s face, the kid’s knuckles. It was everywhere already. Casey had no time. His first strike would take his advantage. He’d be lucky to get one or two hits in before they retaliated. He needed to act fast. The poor man was already limp against the steel rolling door as it reverberated with each strike. Every second dragged and he couldn’t move fast enough. Another punch landed. And another. Another. Even as his baseball bat crushed into the closest Dragon’s knee another strike hit the man. The momentary shock of his arrival and attack only gave the man a split second reprieve before the kid panicked and hit him again when the man shouted for Casey’s help. Casey didn’t have enough time for another blow, only time to lift his bat to guard his face. </p>
<p>One Dragon beat on Casey’s bat hard enough that his muscles gave way. The bat slammed into his face. He didn’t remember any Dragons being that strong. But it’d been a while. The ground felt unsteady. Wobbly. Casey staggered a step. That’s when a fist from behind slammed into Casey’s ribs. Rage took over. Wildly, Casey lashed out with the bat, striking out fast and hard trying to get the Dragon’s to back off some distance so he got a chance to regroup. He needed to catch his breath. He needed space. Casey swung again.  </p>
<p>His haphazard attack had one positive effect; it distracted the kid enough to stop punching the old man. Dragons shouted at the kid to keep up, maybe about no witnesses, but Casey couldn’t hear too well. Stars filled his vision and his ears rung. An unknown disadvantage to his metal hockey mask. Blood poured from some wound on his face, into his mouth. He stumbled a step, grasping for a hockey stick from his bag. Ugh, he’d left the bag back near Carina’s place. In all the usual haunts he kept bats and sticks hidden in chimneys and vents, but he had nothing like that here. No reserves. </p>
<p>Blood mixed with saliva. His mouth filling with nowhere to spit. </p>
<p>“Hockey mask? If it isn’t the little Jones.” Casey swiped at the two Dragon’s in front of him. One grabbed hold of the bat. He wasn’t trying to rip it from Casey’s hands but hold him in place. The other came at Casey and his blind side, gripping a hunting knife tightly. Standing still would only get him killed. Casey left his only weapon and lunged away, just enough movement to avoid being stabbed. </p>
<p>“I remember your dad.” The third Dragon. He’d stepped back into shadows, Casey had forgotten about him. Steel pipe in hand, that bastard landed his own hit on Casey’s back, another to his shoulder. Casey hit the pavement face first, expecting another blow, but none came. “New target. Shoot him.” Casey ripped his mask off. Sweat and blood drenched his face. Through the stars he saw the trembling barrel of the gun. Pointing at him. </p>
<p>“You don’t…” Casey’s ribs pierced with each cough. “Don’t…,” the kid was terrified. He’d clearly never shot someone. Wild eyes looked to his superiors for help. How to pull the trigger at a person. Instead of help they taunted him, trying to snap the kid into pulling the trigger.</p>
<p>Then, the Dragon to his right convulsed and dropped to the ground. A black swirling mass, or shadow, or… Casey had no idea what it was. Something alive? Human or monster or mutant? “These streets are ours.” The voice played through a speaker, distorted. Male? Female? Did it matter? </p>
<p>A different voice spoke from the dark, similar distortions but definitely different, “We told you what would happen if you recruited here again.” A single feature formed and floated in front of him. A smile, no, a mouth. Freakish teeth bared, its lips held back. Casey’s vision began to clear and the shadow around the disembodied teeth took shape. Casey’s strength waned, and he fell forward again, rolling to his back and watching as the other two Dragon’s threw themselves at the freakish new comers. The two black figures crushed into the Dragon’s. Shoulders dug into their torsos, sickening thunks of fast blows to the Dragons’ ribs and chests. Knives and guns clattering to the ground as hands shattered when they were driven into the steel door. The accompanying screams piercing the night. As slow as the punches seem to have flown when Casey was entering the battle, everything moved so fast Casey barely registered the blurry movement as a flurry of punches. Casey tried to focus, the closer Ghoul held the Dragon into the door. The more he focused his vision cleared enough to see the Dragon kick wildly, his feet dangling off the ground. Electricity crackled the air. Both Dragon’s fell to the ground.  </p>
<p>The kid had frozen in place with the gun still trained on Casey. A black glove closed around the gun, gently twisting it from his grasp, “Go home to your Gran.” The kid didn’t hesitate, scurrying from them. Casey rolled again, straining to see his saviors. All that remained of the fight was him and the old man against the steel door. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Safely in a neighboring alley, they thrust their hoods back.</p>
<p>Thick tendrils of hair, plastered together with sweat, fell into Carina’s face. She tore her mask away and took huge, gasping breaths, and her fists pounded the wall. Softly, relatively speaking, growing in strength until she muttered, “Damn it. Damn it, Jones.” </p>
<p>Chris grabbed at her shoulder, shaking her back against the wall for support.  </p>
<p>“Ok, well, that was unexpected.”</p>
<p>“God damn do gooder!” Pieces of wall crumbled away from hit after hit. Dents forming as he watched. </p>
<p> From one of many pockets across his jacket, Chris pulled a phone as he took in the surrounding storefronts and restaurants. Everything was closed and still. The three Purple Dragon’s slumped at their feet. His gaze came back to her, and she grumbled, breaking needles and stowing the sedatives in her own pockets. Great, a whole night of pissiness ahead of him. </p>
<p>So, Chris ignored his pissy sister, focus returning to the street. No pedestrians out. No lights either. Not from where he wanted them, the closest warehouse. No, the only people around were the fish sellers. Hopefully, it would still be believable. Generally, no one questioned these things. Giving in, Chris opened an app in the lower corner of his phone opened. Chris input the phone number for the fishmonger and dialed. </p>
<p>Before the first ring completed he heard, “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?” The operator coolly answered. </p>
<p>“Help, please help. I heard gunshots and screaming. I think someone is hurt outside. I am working at the fish market on Mott. Please get help. Please,” he gave a small cry and cut the call off with, “Someone’s hurt. Please hurry.” </p>
<p>That should be more than enough and left them with a matter of minutes before sirens came barreling towards them. </p>
<p>“A baseball bat?” Carina complained, half into her mask, making for an eerie, warped echo. “What was he going to do with the damn bat?” </p>
<p>“You good?” She still looked pale. The luminous red contacts standing out even more against her pallor. His sister truly embodying her alter ego. </p>
<p>“And the mask?” Her own mask back on, removing the echo, now only warping her voice. </p>
<p>“He loves hockey.” Chris adjusted his own again. “Makes him incrementally more intimidating.” </p>
<p>She shook her head and hauled two of the Dragons up onto her back. They still had to haul their three captives all the way to the van, on the other side of the warehouse, and drop them off at the police station. </p>
<p>With a mechanically twisted giggled. “You make a good damsel in distress.” </p>
<p>“Shut up.” Maybe he dodged a bullet and he wouldn’t be dealing with her pissiness all night.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Leo insisted on scouting Little Italy. The reason? Donatello suspected Leo didn’t appreciate the brewing feud between Vizioso’s mob and the Purple Dragons. </p>
<p>The two gangs’ scuffles increasing in severity for weeks now. It was getting so bad area hospitals emergency rooms overflowed. Every night more violent than the last. </p>
<p>Don’s theory, backed up by Mikey and Raph: stop the invasive species to bring the environment back into equilibrium, i.e. stop Vizioso’s gang war with the Purple Dragons and the Purple Dragon’s became manageable on the day to day again. Not the best analogy. A virus attacking a biological entity’s immune system? </p>
<p>There were only four of them, five if they counted Casey, trying to keep crime to a minimum. They couldn’t be everywhere, but they did what they could. Moved around to where they were needed. Leo claimed that led to the Ghouls. </p>
<p>None of that was why Leo’d insisted on scouting Little Italy. </p>
<p>“Did you hear about the break-ins at the warehouses?” Leo grimaced at the restaurant below them. </p>
<p>“Warehouse break-ins don’t even make the news anymore.” Donnie answered. In reality, they did make the news if they didn’t happen in the area around Chinatown. </p>
<p>Out of a pouch on his belt, Leo produced a broken vial. Medical grade, not the usual junk they found on the street. DN-Tech logos. Half the sticker gone with the vial. But the most interesting part? Scribbled on the side: sharp pointed three-pronged fire. </p>
<p>“You doin’ reconnaissance wit’out me again?” </p>
<p>Mikey sang, “Aw, Raph and Leo…” </p>
<p>“Finish that…I dare ya!” Fist poised over his brother, Raph nodded in approval when Mikey shrank and stopped. Of course, he gave Mikey one good jab in the shoulder. Ah, classic Raph asserting his dominance. </p>
<p>A master in ignoring Michelangelo, Donnie rolled the vial between his fingers. </p>
<p>
  <em>Medical grade. Medical grade. </em>
</p>
<p>“Wasn’t there a medical supply truck hijacked last week?” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Raph thought. “Dragons?” </p>
<p>“Yep.” Leo distracted by movement near the window of Vizioso’s restaurant. </p>
<p>“Then why we sitting here in Italian mobster territory?” </p>
<p>“Now I want spaghetti.” Drool pattered on the cement next to Donnie. Mikey leaning so far Don considered tethering him to the roof.</p>
<p>“Because this,” Leo plucked the vial from Don’s fingers, “came from one of Vizioso’s lackeys. Not a Dragon.” </p>
<p>And it had the Foot’s symbol crudely embossed on the side. Was he honestly implying the Foot were working with Vizioso? That didn’t seem very likely. Not with what they knew about both the mob boss and the Foot Clan.</p>
<p>“Don?” </p>
<p>“No hospitals have reported any theft of medications. Nor clinics. Without other information, it is a safe assumption these came from the DN-Tech truck.” </p>
<p>“That don’t explain how it got to Vizioso.” </p>
<p>“There are any number of…” </p>
<p>“It also don’t explain why you, fearless, were out doing recon without backup when you were givin’ Don crap for getting groceries.” </p>
<p>Helpfully, Mikey added, “And making jet packs.” </p>
<p>“There ain’t no jet packs!” Raph slapped him.</p>
<p>“Come on!” </p>
<p>“I was just…”</p>
<p>“Yes?” </p>
<p>Three pairs of rapt eyes turned on Leo. He folded his arms tighter, mouth tightly sealed. Don broke first to return to surveillance, the whole reason they were all sitting on the rooftop. He’d let Leo stew in his frustration. Don didn’t have the patience to pick his way through Leo’s baggage.</p>
<p>Raph whispered, “You waiting for Karai?” </p>
<p>“Or any other Foot.” Leo replied equally quietly.  </p>
<p>All the roofs were open. Lots of line of sight to them. Unless they were on the street level, where there weren’t any alleyways to hide in, therefore few places they could see Vizioso it bore mentioning, “We’re pretty exposed up here.” </p>
<p>“There aren’t any other good lines of sight. And Vizioso likes to be seen.” True. Vizioso kept himself visible to the world, sitting in his infamous window table, gorging on plate after plate of spaghetti. </p>
<p>“Crap, we gonna be up ‘ere all night and ain’t gonna get anythin’ to show fer it.” </p>
<p>Don contemplated the likelihood of Raph’s statement vs Leo’s stoic stance. The longer Leo stood there, the more Don agreed with Raph. </p>
<p>Until…</p>
<p>“Actually, we’re not going to be here all night.”</p>
<p>Each of them simultaneously exhaled. Good. He had a shift in the morning and wanted a few hours of sleep.</p>
<p>But it all begged the question Raph asked, “Then what’re we doing ‘ere? Cause I’m gettin’ tired of this cryptic-ass bullshit.”</p>
<p>“We can’t be up here doing surveillance during the day. Too risky.” Don felt the side eye Leo gave him. “But the Foot can come anytime of day.” </p>
<p>Oh. He wished Leo’d talked to him before they left the lair. All Donnie had was his normal surveillance equipment. Binoculars, tablet, and his portable tool kit. But he would have brought wireless transmitters, cameras, a hard drive and power source. </p>
<p>“Don -” Bzz! Bzz!  Leo groaned. “Mikey!” </p>
<p>“That’s not me.” </p>
<p>Militant Leo always kept his phone on silent. Donnie, same. Mikey giggled at Raph who swatted out. </p>
<p>“It’s April.” And if April was calling <em>Raph</em> instead of Casey…</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p><br/>Raph struggled to calm April. He finally succeeded when he commiserated with April about Casey’s worst qualities. By the time Raph got off the phone with April, it was apparent that three of them were thrilled to leave Little Italy behind. That just left prying Leo from Vizioso’s restaurant. </p>
<p>Sure, Leo was sympathetic to April, but Don heard Leo’s voice shout in his mind: <em>Vizioso! Their mission. Shredder!</em></p>
<p>Their tiny clan had never been a democracy. No voting. There were orders and they followed them. Loosely. Unless something drastic happened. April calling Raph qualified as drastic. Leo quickly got voted down three-to-one.  </p>
<p>Thrilled to be out of surveillance duty, Mikey literally sang the entire trip to April and Casey’s apartment, pausing once to ask, “Can we celebrate? I’m thinking cake.”</p>
<p>“No cake.” Raph scoffed. </p>
<p>“You’re right. Cake is for jet packs.”</p>
<p>“Bring up jet packs one more time…” Raph’s threat fell on deaf ears as they’d just landed on April’s building. </p>
<p>Donnie and Leo led the way down the fire escape, avoiding dropping in front of any lit or open windows. April’s already window propped open wide, ready for them to swing through. </p>
<p>“Case? What the hell did’ya get yerself into?” Raph ducked in through window last. Casey lay shirtless on the couch, purple welts already deepening across his chest. Coming from the kitchen, April carried a package of frozen peas. Don winced in anticipation as April slapped the peas down on Casey’s face as hard as she could muster. Too much pain for Casey to feel embarrassed, he let out a small yelp of pain which turned to laughter. As he pulled the bag away to reveal a cut along the bridge of his nose closely encircled with black bruises and swelling that reached across his eyes Raph groaned deeply, “What happened to you?”  </p>
<p>“Good question, Jones.” Oh, shit. They all knew that tone. This wasn’t the ‘Casey screwed up at lunch I’m a little pissed off tone’. April growled from deep within her, “What happened?”  </p>
<p>Casey settled the bag over his face again. “I got ambushed by Dragons,” he said with a resigned tone.</p>
<p>Leo surveyed the damage then asked, “Dragons did this?” </p>
<p>Dragons were nasty and violent. For as long as they’d known Casey, he’d never been the best fighter, but even when they weren’t there to help it was never this bad. Most Dragons ran at the sight of anyone willing to stand up to them.</p>
<p>“That ain’t like the Dragons we met before.” Bruises wrapped around Casey’s ribs. When he turned the lines continued all along his back. </p>
<p>The living room was littered with Casey’s mask, shirt, jacket and bag of hockey sticks. Thrown about in a fit of rage when he’d gotten home, either by April or himself. </p>
<p>“You got lucky,” Don lifted Casey’s arm, touching the bruises the trailed along his ribs. “Any cracked or broken ribs?” Casey shook his head. “You know I’m not…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, been to the emergency room. Nothing’s broken. Probably no concussion, just going back to see a friend tomorrow for a followup.” Casey removed the peas and prodded the bridge of his nose though April slapped his hand away before he tore open the wound. Again, by the looked of the fresh sheen of the dark red line. </p>
<p>“’K, Dragon’s are brutal but this is…” </p>
<p>“Yeah, well, they must be hiring bigger muscle back. I knew these guys. They’d worked for my old man. Probably brought on to help their recruitment and keep the other guys I ran into off the streets.” </p>
<p>Donnie rolled Casey onto his side. He looked like he’d been wrapped in something and squeezed, forming circular bruises. But on closer examination, the bruises faded and strengthened. Multiple hits?</p>
<p>“Oh, my god!” Mikey jumped around overtly excited.  </p>
<p>Raph snarled, “Vizioso’s guys?” </p>
<p>“Foot?” Leo asked hopefully.</p>
<p>“Aliens?” Mikey chimed.</p>
<p>“Wow. No. No. And definitely no! Ghouls.” </p>
<p>“Seriously!” Now that was news Donatello thought worthy of them leaving a stakeout.  </p>
<p>“DUDE!” Mikey’s disappointment that Casey did not in fact meet aliens very short lived.  </p>
<p>Raph bounced on the balls of his feet, itching to find a fight. “Where? How many?” Casey lifted the bag again to look at his friend. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m all for those Ghouls helping out. Dragons, though? I’m always ready to pound some Dragons.”  </p>
<p>“They were taken care of. That’s why I wanted you guys here.” The sudden round of incredulous noises from around the room made Casey snap, “Wow, what a vote of confidence. Not me. Ghouls. These guys mean business.”</p>
<p>“The Dragons or the Ghouls?” Leo’s derision aside, the street gangs were a bane and required their attention, but his focus was still on the bigger threat looming over them.</p>
<p>“Leo, they didn’t just scare off the Dragons. They dragged ‘em off somewhere after beating the hell outta ‘em.” Casey eased back, letting the bag of peas block out the lights. “Not sure if to the cops or a back alley somewhere.”</p>
<p>“Did you get a good look at them?” Don asked. “You’re the first eyewitness, period.” </p>
<p>April tipped the bag back with another scowl. Over the years Don had many conversations with April about how much she worried over Casey going out playing vigilante, praying that this would never be the result. Don checked his own enthusiasm and added quietly, “First one that will admit to seeing them.” </p>
<p>“No. Too dark and I already took the hit in the mask.” He threw the bag at April as she fussed over him. “I could only see one of ‘em and only part of their mask. Teeth.” </p>
<p>“Man? Woman?” Leo prodded for more. The sightings had been going on for weeks now, and there was so little information. Casey shook his head. </p>
<p>“They had speakers in their masks. Their voices sounded strange.” </p>
<p>“Voice changer? Interesting.” Donatello pulled out his tablet to start taking notes. </p>
<p>“I think they’re ninjas.” Casey pressed his fingers under his eyes, feeling how swollen it was already. “Or something.” </p>
<p>“What, like Foot?” Adrenaline coursed through Raph faster. He couldn’t stand still. </p>
<p>“I…I don’t know. They were fast, they were good. They were nothing like the Dragons. Took out the light before they really attacked. Strong, too. One of ‘em had one of the Dragon’s up off the ground.” Casey replayed the incident again, trying to remember more. Useless. There wasn’t more to remember. Except the kid. “They let the kid go. The one the Dragons were tryin’ to recruit. Told him to go home.” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Receiving word that the roofs were clear before midnight was a welcome surprise. They could complete their mission without interference from those irritating turtles. Karai gathered her team exactly where Leonardo had stood less than an hour before.</p>
<p> <br/>Ugh. From here she had a perfect view of Vizioso as he continued his gluttonous evening. Patrons to his fine dining establishment took their time finishing and even more time exiting in drunken reverie. So, they waited patiently until the last patron, not a part of Vizioso’s ‘family’, left. </p>
<p>She’d kept the Foot Clan quiet, refusing to take any more jobs after the Winters’ fiasco. The name of the Foot Clan would not suffer any further under her. She felt the end closing on her. The end of her reign. The end of hiding in the shadows. A new beginning budding, ready to burst forth and blossom. </p>
<p>When the sign hanging on the door turned from open to closed Karai simply pointed at the restaurant below, and her squad of soldiers disappeared into the night. Seconds ticked by, then she lept from the roof. As she landed crackling lightbulbs died one by one and the sidewalk darkened. Inside the restaurant, power flickered ominously before cutting out entirely. </p>
<p>She entered the restaurant as shouts filled the cramped space. Vizioso barking orders at everything. Candlelight cast strobing shadows along the wall. Didn’t matter. The Foot melted into all the shadows in between. </p>
<p>Vizioso’s beady eyes darted around the room, resting with Karai. She could talk extra carefully. Maybe he could read lips. Two of her soldiers cracked glow sticks, scattering them around the room casting a dim glow around all of Vizioso’s unconscious men. “Don Vizioso.” Karai’s delicate voice called out in a moment of calm. “You have been raiding the Purple Dragon’s warehouses.” </p>
<p>Recognition dawned. He knew what he’d done. “So…so what if I have? Those punks have been horning in my space. This is mine! They think they can keep a warehouse,” Karai’s hand stayed her general from relieving Vizioso of his head. “Hey.” </p>
<p>Karai took the seat across from Vizioso. Rarely did she display casualness, particularly in front of her men. “What have you sold?” Sweat dripped down Vizioso’s face, soaking into his shirt and tie. “You own the deli two blocks over, do you not?” His face contorted. “Your men were less than helpful before they died.” </p>
<p>“What is it you’re looking for? I can cut you a great deal.” </p>
<p>“Everything from the warehouse.” </p>
<p>“I’m told there was some high end, stolen medical equipment.” Removing a handkerchief from his pocket, Vizioso mopped his brow. He’d been trying for a flippant attitude but the tremors in his hand gave him away. “It might just pay for the men and cars I lost last week because those damned Purple Dragons!” </p>
<p>“You misunderstand. That was my warehouse. The contents are not for sale.” Karai looped her foot around the leg of Vizioso’s chair, inching him closer to her. Vizioso started to panic as the sword she’d drawn pierced his skin. “I will ask one,” closer, “more,” closer, “time.” </p>
<p>“We got a construction job down on Worth. The machines’s all there.” </p>
<p>“And our pharmaceuticals?” </p>
<p>“That was high end goods, lady. We sold that right away.” </p>
<p>Karai ground her teeth. Pathetic. It was maddening. Standing, she surveyed the room. Most of her soldiers took her sign, heading out and toward Worth Street. Her General, Shibata, kept his sword steady at Vizioso’s neck. She relented, leaving Vizioso to call his cleaners. </p>
<p>“Next time, your head will be the payment I seek for raiding a Foot Clan warehouse.” </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Well, that took longer than I anticipated. But I am pretty happy with how it turned out. So much extra world building but this is all setting the stage! Next chapter is coming but I plan to post to Heart of Gold (my pokemon detective pikachu fic) next. Thanks for reading! &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Casey Jones...what is wrong with you?!?!?!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Carina bolted out of the bathroom, wet hair dripped down and soaked the back of her undershirt, to answer the door.  She was lucky to be half dressed in her scrubs and undershirt when the pounding on her door. Who the hell would be at their house at the god-awful hour of 6 o’clock in the freaking morning? Better she take care of whatever emergency than Chris. The most he would do was check the peephole, then return to his laptop to study the markets. She might get a text about who’d been at the door if, and only if, he was feeling generous or not in a downright pissy mood.</p>
<p>This morning, she’d guess he was nothing but pissy. He’d had a rough time sleeping after their outing the night before, and so he’d been up and working for a few hours already as other markets opened and closed. </p>
<p>She peered through the peephole as Casey pounded on the door again. So hard the door bumped into her face. “Lord,” she braced her hand against her nose, a small pulse of pain radiating out, and threw the door open. “What is wrong with you? Why would you be here before seven - oh my god, what the hell happened to you?” Carina dragged Casey in the door and slammed it shut again. </p>
<p>“Good morning to you too.” Bags hung low under his eyes. He probably hadn’t actually slept the night before. Casey moved sluggishly past the door, hobbling lopsidedly to one of the breakfast bar stools. “I was hoping you could take a look?” </p>
<p>“I’m looking,” she snapped. Casey shrunk under her ‘mom glare’, just like a child being reprimanded. Which he was. She’d used the very same glower since she was ten and he was twelve and wouldn’t listen to anyone or anything. “What the hell happened to you?” she asked again, as if she didn’t already know. In the hours since she’d seen him last, the bruises darkened, menacingly crossing his nose and swelling one eye. Fortunately, neither of his eyes swelled shut. The way Casey had limped in though didn’t put her at ease either. </p>
<p>They hadn’t been fast enough. That was all it was. She couldn’t help but feel guilty. The only solace being he was here in her kitchen and not still in an emergency room, assuming he’d gone to one in the first place. She’d witnessed a few of the blows, and it was a true wonder that a rib didn’t shatter and puncture his lung. Still, her fingers poked at the bright purple and blue blotches under his eyes. Gingerly, she touched his nose and pushed at it. Not broken that she could tell. “Well?” she demanded. Just because she’d seen what happened didn’t mean she wouldn’t demand an explanation from the dumbass. </p>
<p>“It was nothing.” </p>
<p>Carina jabbed him with two fingers on either side of his nose. “Nothing? Nothing?!?!” Panic and pain warred with each other. Casey clamped his hands over his nose. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” Her face twisted in rage. Casey flinched back from her but had nowhere to go, trapped between her and the breakfast bar. </p>
<p>Carina’s hand shot out pinching Casey’s  upper arm, which she held and twisted until he relented, “Purple Dragons! Ok, Purple Dragons.” She released his arm in a huff. “Gah! Ow! I came to you for help! April’s already ready to kill me!” </p>
<p>“I WONDER WHY!” She shook her head at him.  The insufferable boy turned into an equally insufferable man. She supposed she wouldn’t have it any other way. He tried to do good. It would get him killed someday. Except, now he was putting a woman through this kind of worry and suffering! Someone Carina assumed he wanted to be his family, probably already part of his family.</p>
<p>She pulled his shirt up and blanched. His back had turned a myriad of colors. Black, blue, purple. Tears threatened to break her calm, and her nails dug deeply into the soft parts of her hand. All a reminder of her failure. Now her friend was getting involved and he wouldn’t stop. </p>
<p>A thought occurred to her, and she narrowed her eyes at him again, “You better not be lying to April.” </p>
<p>“I’m not. S-she knows.” </p>
<p>Carina left the room in a huff to grab the top for her scrubs and backpack. Casey took any reprieve he could get, sitting against the breakfast bar sullen and defeated until Carina returned. From the bag she pulled a small light and shone it in his eyes. “Did you hit your head?” which he answered with a mumbled yes. Of course he hit his head! Everything on him had been hit! She twisted his head sharply to the side to check for bumps and other bruising.</p>
<p>“Come on! I went to the ER last night. I’m fine.” </p>
<p>“This is not fine!” She flicked at his ribs, eliciting a groan. More than enough proof that he was not ‘fine.’ Still, she threatened, “I will make you not fine.” And flicked him again. </p>
<p>“Stop, stop, stop!” If Casey thought years, height and bulk would make him able to win a fight against her, he was sorely mistaken. Obviously. “Ok! Hey! There was an old man getting beat. What did you want me to do?” </p>
<p>“Call the cops?” </p>
<p>“Cara! You know as well as me the cops won’t do a thing! They wouldn’t even get there in time.” </p>
<p>She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of letting him know he was right. The cops would never have gotten there in time and there would have been two families grieving, potentially. One for losing the old man and one for the boy who joined a gang.</p>
<p>“You got fucking lucky!” Hesitantly, Carina looked him over again. “So, what do you need, Jones?” </p>
<p>“April wants me to get checked out again.” </p>
<p>“For signs of a concussion or delusions? Because I don’t do psych evaluations.” Eyes wide, Casey tried to give her a little puppy dog pout, something he must have thought was ‘cute.’ “Fine. You need x-rays?” </p>
<p>“Nah. ER did that.” </p>
<p>“Which ER? Names. Now, Jones.” Scattered among all her normal morning accouterments like coffee and hairbrush, Carina found and threw a pen and paper into Casey’s chest. “I’ll check them myself.” <br/>The commotion must have interrupted Chris’ work. He ambled into the kitchen, dropping his laptop on the counter. For Chris, watching a battle was far more enjoyable than being in the middle of one, especially when it involved Carina yelling at someone other than him. </p>
<p>“Jones? Wow. This a new look you going for?” </p>
<p>Casey could only manage a nervous chuckle. “C-can I hang around?” He looked between the twins pleadingly. </p>
<p>“Oh, lord.” Carina moaned. </p>
<p>“Come on. I can do manual labor.” </p>
<p>“Good idea. Manual labor will heal that whole mess right up,” Chris tapped Casey’s head and then his watch. Carina had a delivery arriving soon and he did not want her to be late. Alice, her partner at the clinic and their sister, would place sole blame on him. Didn’t matter if Carina was a grown woman and could get her own butt to work on time, Chris would still be found guilty and punishable in his twin’s tardiness. </p>
<p>“Please?” Casey begged.</p>
<p>Chris dropped his mug in the sink, making a show of grabbing his sunglasses and shoes. He would leave her here in the house and just wait at the clinic if he had to. He’d done it before. “Fine.” Carina griped and grabbed her bag. “I’ll check on you at lunch. Don’t…just don’t hurt yourself more. And call your girlfriend before she hunts me down.” </p>
<p>Casey beamed at her, “She wouldn’t do that. Speak of the devil.” His phone blared at them, “Hey!” Neither had ever seen Casey so enthusiastic, even if forced. “No, I’m getting checked out again. Yeah, couldn’t sleep. You know how I feel about those pills.” </p>
<p>Not bothering with niceties, Chris spoke loud enough for Casey, and April, to hear, “I’m going to walk Cara-bear to work. Don’t kill yourself while we’re gone.” Chris pushed her out the door as Casey grappled at explaining what his plans were for the day. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Well,” Chris had burst into giggles as soon as the door closed. “He’s not dead.” </p>
<p>Carina, though, didn’t find the humor in the situation. She stopped several storefronts from their house to scream into her hands. It didn’t help and only gave her dumbass brother more amusement with the whole messy situation. </p>
<p>“I am going to get a copy of every single x-ray…” </p>
<p>“He’s fine.” Chris tried to put on a reasonable tone. “Are you going to calm down?” </p>
<p>Fighting back the urge to cry made her chest ache. Maybe her face had gotten splotchy and red or her eyes had gone glassy and thick with tears. Either way Chris sensed something amiss. He took her hand and pulled her out of the morning sun and into an alley. She leaned into the cool brick while he stared back at her from a few feet away and waited. </p>
<p>“Last night…” Just those words were enough to break her. Tears rolled down each cheek, the first giving way to a torrent. Their weight enough to drag her all the way down the side of the building.</p>
<p>She’d worried all night about Casey. Barely slept, barely ate breakfast. Hell! She’d added sugar to her bagel and butter in Had it gone on any longer Chris would have called her useless and convinced</p>
<p>Alice to find a replacement doctor for the day.</p>
<p>“Casey’s fine. A dumbass but fine.” He kept standing watch as the morning pedestrian traffic grew. “You know it’s always harder when there’s people involved that we know.” </p>
<p>She knew. She’d given that talk dozens of times about detaching from a situation to keep a cool, clear head. But it had never been Casey. Never been family. </p>
<p>“We need to be faster,” Carina insisted. </p>
<p>“We can’t always be faster. Those warehouses are a nightmare to navigate.” Carina’s face burned. He was doing his best, but that still wasn’t good enough. Chris reached out for her arm, gripping it firmly, reminding her he was there. “You’re not the one to blame here.” </p>
<p>The comfort let loose the torrent of emotions she’d been holding back for so long. “Then what do we do? Huh? We’re doing what we can with the Purple Dragons.” </p>
<p>“Don’t start back up with that ‘going out in the day’ thing again. That won’t work. We’ll get caught. Then what?” </p>
<p>“What…else…” </p>
<p>“You can’t baby Jones.” Chris stopped, for good reason. That was probably the most ridiculous thing he’d ever said. Through her tears, Carina cocked her head, looking at her brother. “Fine. Baby him. He’s a massive man-child, anyway. Going out playing vigilante or whatever.” He slapped her in the arm in what normally would lead to sparring or chasing each other around trying to one up the other. Damn him because it worked. She responded with a twist of his arm as they wrestled only for a moment. Carina finally feeling the tears fade. “What is it about Jones? We knew kids in other places way longer.” </p>
<p>Did she have to say it? No. As soon as he looked toward home he knew why. Their home now just as it had been their first, very cramped, home back then. The spectral image of a child-sized Casey Jones showing up on the doorstep, wanting to do nothing more than pick a fight, really wanting a meal and seeing a whole busload of kids piled in yard eating. Mere days into their temporary stay in the house. Before the apartment building only a few blocks away. Casey and them all shared a few common traits. Bruises and hunger and anger. </p>
<p>Casey was the first. The first friend any of them ever made. The first they’d helped. The first. </p>
<p>Resigned, Chris sighed and motioned back to the sidewalk. His sister was calm again, so there was no need to delay the inevitable beating from Alice at the clinic about why they were late.</p>
<p> “So,” Chris looked at her with that devilish look he got every once in a while, “can I tell Alice about Jones?” </p>
<p>“I’m not delivering a body bag to O’Neil. That would all be on you.” </p>
<p>His coy smile fell, “Eh, too much work.” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The quiet unsettled Raph. He’d been in the training room, lifting and killing time until dinner all to avoid Leo who’d been getting on his nerves and Mikey who kept pestering him to do something with him because he was “sooooooooooo bored.” Weights were more interesting than another Mortal Kombat tournament, or racing tournament, or PAC-Man. Donnie had a better chance at keeping Mikey entertained by challenging him to...whatever. Raph’s imagination never compared to Don’s. His brother could come up with stacks of pointless errands or set him on an art project and Mikey disappear for entire afternoons. </p>
<p>But in the training room, with only the ambient subway noises keeping him company, Raph became bored quickly. Somehow the silence felt unnatural. </p>
<p>He brought a dumbbell out to the living room to join his brothers where the lair, home, felt full of life again. </p>
<p>Donnie and April sat at the kitchen table, Don’s shift must have just ended. He looked exhausted, a more drained exhaustion than when he was in a project frenzy. And who knew when the turtle slept. Like a full night’s sleep. He got an hour or two here and there. Don nursed a fresh cup of coffee while April played with her empty teacup. </p>
<p>“He just goes missing most days,” she sighed. </p>
<p>“How are the injuries healing?” Don asked. He’d been hunched over the cup until catching sight of Raph. He straightened in anticipation. Raph wouldn’t admit it now, but he’d been rather...crabby when</p>
<p>Leo had been away training. Most days Raph was looking for a fight, any fight. </p>
<p>“Fine.” She mumbled, too distracted by the cup to notice Raph until the first clink of the weights. “Hey.” </p>
<p>Tension draining away in an instant, Don fell back into his chair. “Did he ever get a follow up with a doctor?” </p>
<p>“Yes. That’s all he said. He’s got a friend...she...” </p>
<p>“Yeah, we heard all about that,” Mikey mumbled into his skateboarding magazine. </p>
<p>Raph smacked Mikey through his magazine. “Could’ya be any more thoughtless?” Raph hissed. “He’s not doing nothing.” </p>
<p>“Grammar aside, Raph is correct.” Raph cocked an eyebrow at Don. His brother slipped, placing his hand over April’s. Raph looking at him made him jerk back. </p>
<p>“How can you be so sure?” She slumped back into her chair where she could see all of them easily, but mirrored Donnie eerily. </p>
<p>Donnie took in a long breath, holding it in as he looked back at Raph for help. </p>
<p>“D’ya know the guy at all?” Raph grumbled as he shifted the dumbbell to the other hand. “He’s like a dog.” After a few reps in silence, Raph looked up to see everyone staring back at him blankly until he said, “He’s loyal.” That got him general agreement. “And kind of smells.” And that got him a few laughs. Even from April, who seemed determined not to smile at all. They all, April included, knew where Casey’s loyalty lie, but sometimes it was easy to forget. </p>
<p>“Where’s Leo?” April asked, ready to have the attention off of her. </p>
<p>But it was a good question. Raph would have asked, mostly if he wanted to avoid any more insane training sessions before their nice long patrol. </p>
<p>“Tea with Sensei,” Mikey flipped the page. “Something about revising our strategy or…eh. Whatever.” Suddenly he blew out a messy raspberry and shut the magazine. </p>
<p>“Lot of tea for Splinter today.” April pouted. </p>
<p>Finished with his coffee, Don dropped the cup in the sink and turned only to slump against the counter. Leo emerged from the shadows, mimicking Sensei. Like a demon called to them by saying his name one too many times.</p>
<p>“Don?” Leo’s serious face drained what little energy the room had. He paused and held back a grimace for Raph who kept a steady pace with the dumbbell. They rhythmically clinked together with each rep. And made Leo’s teeth grate. “Did you go through the footage yet?” </p>
<p>“Audio,” Don corrected. “No.” The turtle looked like he would fall over on the spot. Raph didn’t understand when he thought Donnie could possibly have listened to all that. It was the dumbest question Leo could ask him. </p>
<p>A cringe crept up Raph’s shell as Leo rolled his eyes before he whined, “Don…” </p>
<p>“I’ve been busy.” In a rare show of annoyance, Donnie left the room without another word. No argument or grumbling under his breath. </p>
<p>That didn’t stop Leo from calling after him, “Your projects aren’t more…” Leo stopped, probably assuming Don couldn’t hear him from whatever shadow he’d disappeared into.</p>
<p>Not able to stand it any longer, Raph dropped his dumbbell to slap his head. </p>
<p>But Don had heard him and sniped right back, “Not what I’ve been working on.” </p>
<p>“Donnie…”</p>
<p>Enough was enough. Raph intercepted Leo before he could instigate another ridiculous fight. “You ever think to, I don’t know, use questions instead of accusing ‘im?” </p>
<p>“Wow. Coming from you…the king of…” </p>
<p>Mikey interrupted, “Who’s turn is it to make dinner?” Mikey wasn’t dumb. He wouldn’t insert himself into their tiff. But evade? Deflect? Sometimes he was a much better ninja than Raph gave him credit for. He’d gone back to the magazine, starting right over flipping pages and quietly relishing his victory over Leo.  </p>
<p>“Not Mikey’s turn, that’s for sure.” Raph ruffled his little brother’s mask. Grateful for the diversion. </p>
<p>“I liked the pizza tacos, thank you very much.” Mikey replied and blindly batted at Raph’s hand. </p>
<p>“You would.” </p>
<p>Leo got right in Raph’s face and asked, “Here’s a question: Why isn’t anyone complaining the Don’s not making dinner?” </p>
<p>Raph simply said, “Cause Donnie buys all the food.” </p>
<p>“Well…wait…” </p>
<p>Ha ha! It felt so SO good to catch Leo like that. “Didn’t think of that, did’ya?” </p>
<p>“Where…” </p>
<p>“Don’s still working that IT job.” April answered. She’d brought her laptop and buried herself in work or research while the brothers bickered. </p>
<p>“Why is he still working at all?” Leo grumbled. </p>
<p>“Uh, because money is useful?” </p>
<p>Mikey stretched his arms wide, the magazine resting on his chest. “He said with you back, you wouldn’t want me going out and doing parties anymore.” </p>
<p>“You wanna go back out? Was the cake worth it?” Raph settled back on the chair he’d been using and grabbed the dumbbell.  </p>
<p>“Nope.” </p>
<p>“Then don’t complain.” </p>
<p>His older brother responded best to reason but around Leo reason was impossible for Raph. He got high and mighty with his opinions with that dumb, smug face and he couldn’t contain his anger.  <br/>April, though, didn’t have his problem. “Leo. There are some things you can’t get around without money.” Acting as the voice of reason now that they weren’t discussing her problems. </p>
<p>“So, lay off.” </p>
<p>“Can’t believe you’re actually defending him.” </p>
<p>They stood glaring at each other. Raph becoming more keenly aware of how disheveled he looked compared to perfect Leonardo. But none more disheveled than Donnie. He emerged from the dark recesses of his computer nook with a laptop, his bandanna askew atop his head while he rubbed his eyes. </p>
<p>Faintly, Raph realized that the lair didn’t smell like coffee. If Don was awake the lair smelled of one of three things: coffee, grease, or smoke. They knew his shift finished so the lair should smell of coffee. </p>
<p>A distant beeping accompanied his brother’s reemergence. </p>
<p>“Dinner’s done,” Don’s strained to keep himself civil. </p>
<p>Raph wondered what would happen if he went off on Leo. Really let loose. The quiet ones were always the most vicious, or at least that was the saying. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p><br/>“Look at that. Dinner’s done.” Raph narrowed his eyes at Leo. The question formed slowly. “Wait…” </p>
<p>Satisfaction only a part of the reward. There had been logic to how he’d gotten from pesticides to Sunday Pot Roast. The buds on the tree had been so heavy they were ready to burst open. Given a few days and adequate weather. Though, the tree was so protected in that garden that gusts wouldn’t effect the lower branches all that much. Full bloom. One last trip. But he was getting antsy for them to open. So much he even considered emailing the doctor. </p>
<p>His thoughts, naturally, dwelled on her the second he saw her email address. Scientifically speaking of course. That led him back to the website she’d given him. And that led to falling asleep the night before in the vestibule to her cooking with her brother. </p>
<p>Don didn’t remember what he’d been watching, the screen sat on a mess of browns and grays and flesh tones. Well, human flesh tones. He played the video again. </p>
<p>For over five minutes, he sat watching Carina, probably about the same time as the conference video he’d watched, chopping vegetables. Chatting with friends at a kitchen counter. In the background the raucous noises associated with a sport like football. </p>
<p>The first question directed right at the camera eventually came, “Why are you filming me?” </p>
<p>“Not. Just playing a game.” The unseen voice of Chris responded. </p>
<p>A boy across the counter from Carina, taller, dark hair nearly pitch black and thick framed glasses, responded, “He’s lying.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, Kyosuke.” He pushed his glasses up and gave her a winning smile. “I knew.” </p>
<p>“You mean I can’t film a nice family dinner?” </p>
<p>This seemed to be like trusting Mikey to make dinner. Pizza tacos. Nausea, heartburn, indigestion, upset stomach…he knew the rest of the jingle but it still haunted him. </p>
<p>“This some project to butter up dad?” </p>
<p>“No.” “Maybe a good birthday present.” </p>
<p>“That’s...not a terrible idea.” Kyosuke admitted. His mouth twisted a bit but he returned to chopping carrots.</p>
<p>Jerkily, the camera zoomed in on a bottle sitting next to Carina. It sat open but looked untouched. A dark cola or root beer, possibly even a beer, in a glass bottle just a shade lighter than the liquid inside. Carina and the few at the counter finished their vegetables and set the pot roast in the slow cooker. </p>
<p>He wasn’t really sure of the point of the video until...crash! </p>
<p>Carina took a sip of the beer or soda and dropped it immediately. Between gags and wretches, Chris backing away slowly with the camera, Donnie could just make out her eyes watering. She rushed to the fridge, threw it open and slammed it shut an instant later, milk dripping down her chin. </p>
<p>The two guys, Kyosuke and another smaller boy with sandy blond hair, looked at their own bottles. Kyosuke took both and dumped them in the sink to protests. “He couldn’t have known which bottle she’d take.” </p>
<p>Obscenities flew and the image was nothing but blurring colors as Chris dashed away. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ah! I love this chapter and the set up for what is to come!!!! I slowed down a bit with all my writing, I feel sluggish and worn down with everything going on but this is my happy place so there will still be a slow steady trickle of chapters.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. One last visit</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Donnie blinked back grogginess. He’d nearly fallen asleep. From the cool earth and grass beneath him up to the pale blossoms above, he’d become so peaceful he felt the pull of sleep. Gentle and inviting.  </p>
<p>Then over the murmurs in his ear, “Do I care what that lousy bunch of ninjas want?” Vizioso’s booming voice an effective alarm clock. Ninjas? He missed something. </p>
<p>Don let out a sleepy sigh and lifted his tablet up to block the sakura blossoms overhead.  Most of the audio had been unintelligible. Vizioso’s obscenities and orders made up most of the clearest audio. Any amplification he could try wouldn’t help; the audio was too low in quality. Cheap microphones and compression through wireless transmission provided a relatively cost effective and quick, easy set up but few options in enhancement. Maybe he could hear something if he concentrated. And wasn’t about to fall asleep. </p>
<p>He rewound the recording only ten to fifteen seconds and hit play. There’d been a smaller spike on the waveform then. Nothing loud enough to wake him. But possibly discernible. </p>
<p>Grass rustled next to his arm. Hair tickled his shoulder, and tired eyes sparkled above him when he set the tablet against his chest. </p>
<p>“You’re supposed to be working late.” His plan, clearly, had failed. </p>
<p>“I am.” Carina insisted, mock pouting at him. “Shipment of medical supplies coming in soon, but I wanted to eat dinner. Preferably before midnight.” </p>
<p>A fair enough request if he’d ever heard any. </p>
<p>Donatello had come hoping for more peace and quiet than the lair offered, with as few distractions as possible. He tapped pause and glanced at the doctor.</p>
<p>Her weak smile faltered, “What are you doing here?” </p>
<p>A question he’d been asking himself before he dozed under the tree.</p>
<p>His absence, which lasted much longer than he’d meant, hadn’t gone unnoticed. </p>
<p>“The-uh-the,” Don pointed up into the tree. </p>
<p>“Blossoms?” Her face brightened. It didn’t erase the exhaustion, but the smile was worth it, if only a momentary distraction.</p>
<p>Dr. Atwell, in her wrinkled pale scrubs, lifted herself up onto her tiptoes to snatch at the lowest hanging branches. Even then it took a few swipes before she got a blossom, twirling it between her fingers. Nimbly, she crossed her legs to sit next to him. The flower twirled back and forth, dancing between her fingers. </p>
<p>“I thought I might see you again, at least for the blossoms.” Now that she was closer, he recognized the weight of something on her. Her long days or her patients? Except that wasn’t it.  </p>
<p>“Yes, well,” he realized belatedly, she knew. His breath caught in his throat. “Was it jalapeno or habanero pepper?” Donnie sat up, crossing his own legs and bent over his tablet. This sentimentality was exactly why he’d tried to avoid seeing her at all.  Out of the corner of his eye he caught her face twisting in confusion, and there it was. A sucker punch to the gut. “In the soda bottle? Or was it beer?” </p>
<p>“Oh.” The soft petals spun and kissed the side of his hand, startling him into looking up at her. A soft pull of her lips widened, “Savina, because he’s an asshole.”</p>
<p>Funny how everything suddenly became confusing when she smiled.  </p>
<p>“Well,” she laid back in the grass, her head next to his legs as she stretched out her hands toward the blossoms. Her fingers framing the blossoms “I don’t know if you have siblings but some are a pain in the ass. That reminds me…” She rolled over to prop herself on her elbows and looked back toward the house. </p>
<p>After long seconds of waiting, another brush of petals tickled his skin. And warmth. From her hand. Touching his skin. His knee. Gently shaking it back and forth. </p>
<p>He was almost afraid to ask, “W-what?” </p>
<p>“Chris is showering.” The flower spun faster. </p>
<p>Several questions came to mind: How did she know her brother was showering? What, specifically, was she waiting for? Was she still touching him? </p>
<p>In a matter of seconds, she got restless and stood and Don left with his stuttering brain still trying to come to terms with what had just occurred. She paced the garden, holding her hands over her head, fingertips just brushing the lowest hanging branches and flowers. </p>
<p>Donnie’s heart raced. He needed something to occupy his mind, so he turned back to tapping at the screen. The tablet woke allowing him to scan the waveform as he adjusted the headphones back into position, half on so he could continue their conversation, “Maybe I should clarify. What, specifically are you-” </p>
<p>A loud bellow came from the house, “Cara!” Followed by the tiny doctor cackling as she rounded the tree again. </p>
<p>“Dumbass,” she mumbled, falling back into the grass again. Don’s eyes shot to hers, begging for answers. “Ok, I bought this really nice shampoo and conditioner. Organic, naturally made, etc. Smells all lemon and citrus-y. I actually use very little despite how long my hair is. Normally it lasts months. But he,” she shot an accusatory finger at the house, “has been using it all up. The damn bottles were already half empty! After two weeks! And he’s always complaining that I’m wasting money at the clinic, but he can go and use all my nice hair products?” </p>
<p>There was so much to unpack there, and he didn’t have nearly enough time or brain capacity. “Oh, my.” </p>
<p>She insisted, “He did this to himself.” And played with a handful of flowers she’d pulled from the grass. The ones that had already fallen. </p>
<p>“So, you…?” </p>
<p>“Ah, well,” Carina rolled over in the grass, landing just a hair’s breath from his leg again and catching his breath. “I bought a shower bomb, their like bath bombs,” she paused just long enough to see how confused he’d become. “Their like, Epsom salt and citric acid and essential oils. Nevermind. Point is, I bought one that smells like lemonade because, well, they smell really good.” Besides the fact Don hadn’t breathed since she’d began her ramble, a pit formed in his stomach. This was far more elaborate and evil of a sibling plot than he could remember. Intense fear gripped hold if Mikey ever learning of the potential new sensei. </p>
<p>Colorful obscenities interrupted them.</p>
<p>“What did you do?” Don asked, more worried now.</p>
<p>Wild fits gripped Carina, “I filled the shower head with powdered lemonade mix.”</p>
<p>Wow. Wow!  </p>
<p>Mikey could never know of her existence. For Don’s own personal safety. For the lair’s safety. Literally everyone! </p>
<p>She’d begun rolling in the grass, gasping for breath during her fit of laughter. “He’s going to be sticky until the head flushes clean.”  </p>
<p>He rested his hand on the tablet, accidentally hitting play on the recording again. </p>
<p>“I don’t care if the Foot will be there. The Foot want that damn supply truck, I will have everything on board! Capisce?” </p>
<p>Supply truck? Supplies? </p>
<p>“Boss?” The wavering voice barely audible on Don’s recording. He pressed the speaker closer to his ear. “We ain’t been having too good o’luck with pushing the medical…”</p>
<p>“Did I stutter?” </p>
<p>The pit in his stomach expanded to a gaping hole. Carina was playing with the flowers next to him, still wiping away tears. As a sense of calm washed over her until another, shorter, fit took hold; all he could muster was a half-grin back. </p>
<p>Medical supplies. The recording had been earlier in the day. Donnie searched to find the time stamp. Only a few hours ago. There couldn’t be many medical supply trucks out delivering near the Chinatown. His police scanner hadn’t picked up any unusual chatter, and a hijacked medical supply truck would very much constitute unusual. </p>
<p>“I-uh-I have to go.” </p>
<p>“You’ll miss the aftermath. You have a weapon, you’ll be safe. He’ll only be after me!” But her laughter died away when she looked more closely at him. </p>
<p>Don pulled away. All he had on him was the small satchel. With a single dismissive wave, he was on his way over the fence. Not even a proper goodbye for his last time in the doctor’s garden. He hoped his brothers were already waiting on him for patrol. By the look of his phone and the number of missed texts and voicemails, they were. </p>
<p>Leo picked up on the first ring, “Don-” </p>
<p>“Medical supply truck!” He’d stopped running and still worked at catching his breath. Fingers flying over the tablet, searching for a route, or would red-light cameras be faster? “We need to find a medical supply truck. Vizioso’s men are trying to steal it from the Foot.” </p>
<p>“Slow down. How do you know-” </p>
<p>“There’s one close by, that’s supposed to supply a clinic in Chinatown. My guess is the same supply truck will also stop at NYU Medical Center. It’s the closest hospital.” </p>
<p>“That narrows the search radius.” Wind whipped through the microphone. </p>
<p>“Found it!” The brother’s said in unison.</p>
<p>“Meet you there.” Leo cut off the call and Donnie stuffed everything in his satchel. Running at top speed, he could make it there in minutes. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Very fucking funny.” Water rained down on Carina, Chris stood over her shaking his head like a wet dog, breaking her from her daze. Her turtle had given her nothing but mixed signals. He kept coming back, but something kept him from staying long or getting close to her. Plus, she’d even given him her email address and still…nothing. She never realized how little she knew about him until she thought about it. </p>
<p>Chris kept up the rain until she slapped his legs, “Stop using my shampoo.” </p>
<p>“Your pet was here?” An imprint in the grass from where he’d laid back, the dent of his shell deep in the soft earth. </p>
<p>“Yes, he-” Two ringtones, in unison, cut them off. No one ever texted both of them, let alone called. Calling one of them was more efficient. Plus, the joy of the other more or less relaying the message with a good peppering of insults or teasing made for hilarious entertainment to a few of their siblings. </p>
<p>Carina picked up her call; her brother’s phone kept singing to them from the kitchen. </p>
<p>An automated alert coming through with a robotic AI voice and another text popped up just after with the same message. </p>
<p>
  <em>Security  breach! Security breach! Supply Truck MS-13x532 requires assistance.</em>
</p>
<p>“Security breach?” Her brother read over her shoulder while he toweled off as much as possible. Damp hair clung to his head. </p>
<p>“Fuck! That’s my goddamn supply truck.” </p>
<p>“Technically…”</p>
<p>“The one I was waiting for!” She gave him a hearty shove and ran inside, shouting, “Get dressed!” </p>
<p>Chris still smelled like fake lemons and sugar. She could only smell it when they were right next to each other, even through their gear. But there wasn’t enough time. She had the GPS up. The ping was close enough they followed the rooftops instead of hauling out their bikes. Only two blocks. One block. </p>
<p>Metal crashed. </p>
<p>They stopped a couple city blocks from NYU Medical Center. That made sense. NYU Medical Center was the stop before her clinic. She should have gotten an automated text that the truck had been en route. </p>
<p>The twins landed behind the businesses just across from Criminal Court building. The only light in the alley came from the truck’s headlights. Shadows bounced in and out of the light of the tight space.</p>
<p>The familiar grunts of a fight well underway. </p>
<p>Chris stopped short of launching himself from the roof to the truck below. “Looks like Vizioso’s at it again with the Dragons.” </p>
<p>Black fought black fought…</p>
<p>“Oh, my god.” Carina ripped her mask away. She needed to breathe, needed space. Fresh air. That might correct the vision in front of her. Those were not Purple Dragons.</p>
<p>Sure, she expected Vizioso’s guys. None of the suits. Those guys never came near this dirty street business. They stayed holed up in their restaurant or other mafia operated businesses. The guys on the street dressed better than the Dragons but were still casual. Black tee-shirts, designer jeans.   </p>
<p>That’s what she expected. Some of Vizioso’s lackeys to bring back to him and make yet another statement, some Dragons. Boom. Easy enough night. Get there before they bolted, so she wasn’t just faced with was a video of those dumb goons fighting and stealing medicine. </p>
<p>Not ninjas. And certainly not a clan that supposedly disappeared from New York, from the United States. They should have returned to Japan after their leader died. Proper burial and all that. And then stayed the hell out of this country!</p>
<p> But they weren’t. The Foot, their symbol emblazoned on the arm of each ninja clear for anyone to see, fought right there in front of her.  </p>
<p>“Not that I thought Vizioso’s guys could ever take a real ninja, but that is just-” Chris’ voice changer modulating made the comment almost seem menacing.</p>
<p>Pathetic. Yes. She agreed wholeheartedly. No, no, no, no, no! Green with shells and…  </p>
<p>“Oh! Oh my god.” Chris pulled his own mask down this time. </p>
<p>She felt parched and nauseous and…like vomiting. </p>
<p>“Oops,” she murmured through her fingers. </p>
<p>“What ‘oops’? What did you do?” Carina didn’t answer, Chris pulled out binoculars to get a better view of the fight. “Huh. There’s,” they both counted the moving targets, “four of them. I can’t believe there're more pests.” </p>
<p>“Shut up.” Carina pleaded, feeling a weight crush down on her. From the roof, she didn’t even need the binoculars to recognize the kunoichi. Karai. Oroku Saki’s daughter. Alive and well and leading the Foot Clan, apparently. Chasing off Italian mobsters and fighting mutants. </p>
<p>Chris made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the building. “This show keeps getting better and better.” Oh lord, she thought, his I need popcorn voice. One shove. He’d be able to catch himself on the side of the building. “And they’re taking on…is that the Foot Clan?” </p>
<p>“It is,” Carina replied through gritted teeth, unable to tear her eyes from Karai battling… was it his brother? Cousin? Father? Shit, she thought and whipped out her cell phone. </p>
<p>“What are you doing?” </p>
<p>“Calling Tama so he can call off the security detail he’s probably about to send this way.” </p>
<p>“Good idea,” he mumbled to himself, still enthralled with the spectacle. “They’re not bad. Oh, there’s your favorite pest. He’s half decent with that bo. You think they’re brothers? They look the same. But I don’t know much about turtles. We could call-OW!” </p>
<p>She definitely saw a family resemblance in the four of them. More importantly, Tama’s phone went to voicemail, so she tried again.</p>
<p>Vizioso’s men had all but abandoned the DN-Tech supply truck. The door swung open and closed with the tide of the fight. A black-clad figure would ram the truck, the door swung closed until another went to jump inside. </p>
<p>The Foot and - did she not even know his name? - his family couldn’t tear themselves from each other. If anything, their battle was much more ferocious than any she’d seen with the Foot. Vizioso’s men made the smart choice of cutting out when they did.</p>
<p>From her vantage point she could see two of the turtles, neither her turtle. One, with a red bandana, cried out, “Mikey! Watch it!” Orange bandana, aka Mikey, deflected the Foot shurikens flying from the shadows of the building across the alley. Carina couldn’t see any ninja there. That was the point. Unfortunately for red, he happened to be in the path of the deflected shuriken and kept yelling at Mikey. </p>
<p>Interesting. Nunchuks and sais.  Many of her own brother’s and sisters specialized in certain weaponry, though those talents were rarely on display anymore. </p>
<p>“Dude! You wanna get these? Be my guest bro!” Mikey yelled, pointing at the black nothingness of the side of the building. </p>
<p>“Whatever! Go help Don!” A sai flew into the shadows followed by a limp shadow falling to the alley floor. </p>
<p>Mikey, using a nearby Foot ninja as a springboard, flipped himself over his brother and to the back of the truck where he stopped with…Don. </p>
<p>“Oh, they are brothers!” Chris exclaimed excitedly. “Don? Did you-?”  </p>
<p>“Is this really that interesting?” She snapped, concentrating on playing with her mask and the dials on her binoculars. Anything to not look at Chris. A name, finally, to go with the face. Don. </p>
<p>“Yes! They’re giant turtles. Everything about this is really freaking interesting.” </p>
<p>“Ass!” She jabbed him once with little heart behind the punch. The call she’d been waiting on finally connected. Immediately Carina ordered, “Call off security.” </p>
<p>“What? Why? Are you there? You should be home. I had it-” </p>
<p>“Just call them off! We’re handling it.” </p>
<p>“O-k. What is it this time? Please tell me it’s not those Dragon kids again. I say kids because I’m pretty sure-” </p>
<p>“Security. Call it off. NOW!” She mashed the end button, cutting off Tama before he could keep rambling. </p>
<p>“We need more security for the trucks in general now,” Chris’ comment in his increasingly irritating tone he got when tallying their money expenditure for the month, just before he started giving her crap for the clinic or her personal spending. </p>
<p>“Yup.” She’d been saying that for weeks now. No one listened. “It was a one-time thing” her ass! Tama had been keeping secrets. </p>
<p>Another ninja flew across the alley from the back of the truck. </p>
<p>“They’re breaking thousands of…” </p>
<p>She snapped, “Ok, you go babysit the glass bottles.” They could replace medicine. Their cover less so. One snide joke and Don would know.  </p>
<p>Without warning, a sudden wave of black darkened the alley, and the Foot were gone. Vanished like smoke. Chris and her could pursue, capture a Foot soldier, find out all the juicy gossip about the Foot clan. Except the whole encounter unsettled Carina. Chris felt it too. The Foot just left. No dead bodies left in their wake and four mutant turtles coming out relatively unscathed. A clan known in all of Japan for unbridled ruthlessness, leaving blood and bodies.</p>
<p>“Huh?” </p>
<p>Unlike her brother, she’d been busy scanning the alley with the infrared setting on her binoculars. It just felt off. Like the other shoe should drop. Were they still in the shadows? The roofs? Had the Foot Clan retreated? For real, retreated?  </p>
<p>“What?” she snapped. Nothing! No sign of the Foot anywhere.</p>
<p>In the alley the four turtles, alone, stood around assessing the damage, cleaning up boxes by shoving them back in the van, bickering not unlike her and Chris. None of the boxes strewn around must have contained anything very fragile the way Mikey tossed one up and caught it again. </p>
<p>Chris beamed at his ringing phone then turned it to her, “Incoming 9-1-1 call. Think it’s your boyfriend? Pet? What can we consider Don?” She gave him another good jab. “OW!” That one would leave a mark. As he bit his lip and rubbed his tender shoulder, Chris answered with a gentle voice,  “9-1-1, what is the nature of your emergency?” Such a stark and unnatural contrast Carina barely recognized her brother when he put on the facade. </p>
<p>Don stood at the back of the van, locking the doors before he came back around, checking the pulse on the driver and explaining the ‘emergency’. Chris watched with her, giving Don vague instructions, “Emergency crews have been dispatched, eta approximately,” Carina held up her hand, several fingers spread, “three minutes.” The night had been a disaster in so many ways. The faster she could get them to leave, the faster she could secure the van and find out what was salvageable. </p>
<p>Still watching him through the binoculars she saw him hang up before Chris could give any more instructions. Blissful silence for a few quick breaths. </p>
<p>“They’re not taking anything,” he commented, mildly amused breaking her bliss.  </p>
<p>“Nope.” </p>
<p>“He’s a good pet.” </p>
<p>Down in the alley, the four turtles found a manhole cover, opened it and jumped in one by one, leaving the cover to rattle and wobble closed. </p>
<p>Carina shoved Chris over the side of the building. She ended up sorely disappointed that he only fell a few feet to the fire escape below. “Damn. Hoped that was lower down.”</p>
<p>“Bitch,” he retorted.</p>
<p>“Quit being a dick. And seriously, stop using my shampoo!” She pulled her mask back over her nose and mouth. Taking a few giant steps back, she ran and made the leap from the roof. </p>
<p>“Hey! You know the ‘oops’ earlier? What did you do?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Life has been crazy and I'd really wanted to get this up sooner but then a family emergency struck in the form of a broken bone and lots of doctor appointments. <br/>But....OOOOOH! Can't wait for where this leads because it's gonna be good! :D Thanks for reading so far!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. A special kind of petty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Author's notes: Other than foul language and some adult themes there are no notes. :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> The scientific world did not miss Baxter Stockman. The point reiterated every time a former colleague was brought into his lab. His removal from the scientific community was not even worth mentioning in print or television, nothing on social media. But whenever the masked Foot soldiers ushered another down to his lab and saw him every single one said the same thing with the same disappointed tone. </p>
<p>“Baxter Stockman, I thought you died in the explosion at TCRI.”</p>
<p>Lab, that word was an exaggeration now. His small den in whichever abandoned building they occupied. He rarely had a window or saw the outside world. He was lucky to know the date and then only thanks to his computer. If he wasn’t staring at a computer screen, simulation, or lab tests it was the sea of black with the silent Foot soldiers. But still he was free, or at least more free than any scientist and doctor he beckoned for. That was something. </p>
<p>Well, these guys started off antagonistic. Quickly followed by becoming cooperative and even slightly enthusiastic. Finally, the most annoying of them were silent at the end. </p>
<p>“Dr. Singh, how have you been since the Army ostracized you? I heard you had every government fund pulled from every single one of your projects.” The best part of being in his position came next. Each of these colleagues, associates, formerly cutting edge scientists not having a word to say back to him. “Those who can’t do, teach. And you can’t even do that, can you?” </p>
<p>Singh had nowhere to go. His only exit barricaded by Foot soldiers, he tentatively stepped further into the room. </p>
<p>“Why am I here, Stockman? What have you gotten mixed up in?” They all flung accusations at Stockman before he started working for the Foot. Several of these so-called scientists calling his work unethical. Unethical, ha! He got the job done and made more advancements than any of them!</p>
<p>Stockman slid a file across the small table, his table. This was his lab, after all. Singh didn’t want any part of this and refused the folder until the realization dawned on how limited his options were. “I would read it, Singh. It’s that or them.” Stockman’s steepled fingers jutted toward the door and the soldiers.</p>
<p>Singh was never a physical man, even with all his time at the Army bases. For some strange reason those people on the bases had respect for him and no one ticked him off, not when they knew his specialty. Here, there was none of that power or status. Only Stockman’s smug grin gleaming at him. </p>
<p>The file was thin. Singh flipped it open to a hodgepodge of transcripts and notes. This was, by no means, an official hospital record. Many of the notes were similar in nature, written by doctors. Many doctors. A few pictures were paper clipped inside the folder. An unnamed man, mid-forties, of Asian ancestry, and comatose. “How long has he been in a coma?” Singh, apathetic though he might be, valued his life. </p>
<p>“Coming close to three years.” Stockman returned to his screen, allowing the other man to read. </p>
<p>“Artificial heart, interesting. Why…Stockman?” </p>
<p>“Yes?” </p>
<p>“Synthetic neural transmitters?” He flipped through the sheets, gaining speed with each page he scanned, “What is this?” </p>
<p>“I don’t understand what you mean.” Stockman rubbed at his mustache, continuing to scan a document as he listened to Singh. </p>
<p>“This looks like the research by El-Afi’s group when I was in the Army, the transmitters.” </p>
<p>“Does it?” He pushed the monitor around showing Singh’s last research paper on nanites. “How did your nanites work with the synthetic transmitters in Kurosawa’s Alpha program?” No, he was wrong before. This was his favorite part. When the man across from him lost all color. Hacking classified project files: time consuming. The look on those scientists that mocked him mercilessly during his entire career: priceless. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Karai stared into a blank spot in the wall. Relocation closer to Chinatown had advantages and disadvantages. Disadvantage: being far too close to those turtles whom were still out patrolling the city, still trying to stop what crime they come across, and coming far too close to seeing what her Dragons were doing. Every check in with Hun had her more on edge. They should move. Further on the outskirts of the city again. Except access to medical supplies was becoming more relevant, and if Stockman was right, they would need more supplies more quickly and soon. </p>
<p>She felt Stockman hovering in the doorway, his little twitches and fidgeting not covering anything. She didn’t need her lieutenant to tell her how much he enjoyed torturing each new scientist. Stockman watched each disposal they had performed, even if he thought he was hidden in the shadows. The shadows were her domain, not his. </p>
<p>“Was he worth the trouble of capturing?” </p>
<p>Stockman rubbed his mustache again, pretending to consider her question. “He needs equipment to manufacture the nanites. There should be no interference with the mutagen in Shredder’s body.” <br/>With a snap of her fingers, two Foot soldiers melted out of the shadows. Baxter held his breath, his chest puffed out in mock intimidation. “Contact Mr. Alcott. Have the equipment and necessary materials brought to the nearest warehouse.” Piercing Stockman with her glare, his lungs unclenching long enough for a new breath. “If this does not work, Stockman. I will be disposing of two scientists.” A sharp wind cut at Stockman’s cheek. Seconds later he twinged at the cut and blood dripping down his cheek. A Shuriken embedded in the door's wood frame behind him. He turned back to Karai only to find an empty room. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>For once, Don kept his word to himself. He hadn’t set foot in Doctor Atwell’s garden since he saw the blossoms. </p>
<p>That almost made it sound like he didn’t succumb to his weakness. </p>
<p>Weakness, for him, came in the form of an email. The first one was only supposed to check on her, make sure she was safe after the Foot ambushed the medical supply truck that had been heading to her clinic. His kryptonite meant didn’t stay that way. </p>
<p>
  <em>You’re missing out on the aftermath of petals blanketing the yard. </em>
</p>
<p>Sometimes they just exchanged one or two sentences. Small moments from her day. Utterly baffling calls from his work shifts. He was currently rereading one where she included a picture of the patch of grass they called a yard. Barely any green remained. If he didn’t know better, he could have almost mistaken the picture as one from winter, with a snow ladened yard except the deck circling most of the yard was bare. </p>
<p>Donnie, he stayed steadfast in spartan replies. No details about his brothers or father or even April and Casey. Really, he only mentioned his job or a project he was working on. To the best of his knowledge he hadn’t even given her his name. His handle, duz_machines, did not lead to his name either.  </p>
<p>Their emails had gone on now for nearly two weeks. Two weeks since he’d visited the garden and the blossoms. Two weeks since he’d seen Dr. Atwell. And her smile. </p>
<p>Two weeks of intense and persistent guilt gnawing at him for keeping this secret from his family. </p>
<p>Across in the kitchen, Raph and Leo sat in a hushed argument at the table, because neither of them could just have a normal discussion without losing their cool. As usual, the argument didn’t last long before Raph stormed off. He catapulted himself off the wall next to the fridge and up to the railing onto the walkway in front of his room. Leo shook his head in disappointment after Raph.</p>
<p>Don scrolled through emails. He was too tired to play any video games or work on an open project, but there also wasn’t enough time before his work shift to catch a nap without the high probability of oversleeping and missing the shift entirely. </p>
<p>New scrubs for work. A drawing one of her clients drew for her of the clinic and Dr. Atwell in stick figure form. She sent a lot of pictures including pranks she played on her brother. Her brother pouting at her. Trying to steal her phone mid-photo. Those mischevious giggles Donnie could practically hear.</p>
<p>Leo huffed, pacing around the living room. After a few minutes of watching Don sit quietly reading at his laptop, Leo finally asked, “Where’s Mikey?” Which was a fantastic question. He hadn’t seen Mikey in a while, and that only meant trouble was coming. </p>
<p>As if on cue, Raph screamed bloody murder as Mikey came racing out of the top corner room amid continued screaming and sheets rustling. </p>
<p>“I’m terrified to ask.” Donnie shifted his gaze away from Mikey, hoping not to see the moment of Mikey’s death. </p>
<p>He heard the thud of his brother landing on the ground floor, a string of delighted giggles and, “Thanks Don! That was so worth it!” </p>
<p>Don’s nightvision goggles landed on his plastron, knocking the wind from him. </p>
<p>“What did you do?” Leo asked timidly. </p>
<p>“This has nothing to do with your project this morning, does it?” Donnie asked, checking his binoculars for any apparent damage. </p>
<p>“I don’t know if I want…” Leo started only to be interrupted a second later with, “Thirty two.” Mikey beamed. </p>
<p>Leo looked like he was trying to figure out what Mikey could have gotten thirty two of to which Mikey answered,  “Spiders.”  </p>
<p>“Oh, my god.” Leo whispered. </p>
<p>They all looked up at Raph’s room where he was still angrily thrashing around in the sheets. </p>
<p>Faintly, Raph called out, “Mikey, you are a dead turtle!” </p>
<p>Mikey’s fit of giggles turned into a full on roaring laughter. “Bro! You screamed like a…”</p>
<p>“I would be careful how you answer that,” Don offered cautiously, seeing as Raph stood panting in his doorway. He closed his laptop slowly. It was like being trapped in a wild animal enclosure where one was about to charge any all bystanders. They were all in his path and in nearly equal amounts of danger.</p>
<p>Mikey, with no regard for his safety, kept rolling on the floor. He even dared to wipe away a few tears. Leo and Don held perfectly still. </p>
<p>Mike tossed Don’s binocular case up to him. “Classic.” Raph turned on Don, as if he were an accomplice. “Oh, found these!” Mikey snatched the case back on his way up and dumped pressed white flowers all over Don’s chest. </p>
<p>
  <em>Uh-oh. </em>
</p>
<p>“Dude, they totally remind me of that story Sensei told April,” his brother continued on, oblivious to Leo putting together the puzzle pieces. “That place was so pretty. You think that tree bloomed yet?” </p>
<p>“Don?” Leo growled. </p>
<p>“Uh.” For the first time he could remember Don’s mind went blank. Completely blank. </p>
<p>“Oh, I bet that tree is huge now!” Mikey sprinkled the last few petals into his own hand, pushing them around his palm. </p>
<p>Raph landed, as silent as their Sensei, just a few feet from the couch, fists still clenched tight. </p>
<p>“Don?” Leo repeated. </p>
<p>“I,” maybe he’d think up up with an explanation. Except they all knew he couldn’t lie to save his life. “Well, there’s…” </p>
<p>“Did someone see you?” Leo rubbed between his eyes, right where Don always felt the initial pains of a stress migraine.</p>
<p>His other brothers closed in on Don lying on the couch. </p>
<p>“No,” Donnie squeaked out the lie and immediately Mike and Raph started laughing. “No,” he tried more forcefully, but they all still knew it was a complete lie. </p>
<p>“Donnie!” </p>
<p>Mikey sucked in a huge breath, “Was it a girl?” Before Donnie could answer, “Oh my god, it was a girl!” All he could do was open his mouth and then, “And she was pretty.” </p>
<p>“You’d think any girl was pretty.” Raph gave his youngest brother a light tap. </p>
<p>“They are all pretty.” Mikey agreed. </p>
<p>“Doooooon,” Leo drew out his name and all three of them winced together. “We’ve talked about this.” </p>
<p>“I’m still not sure I get it, fearless.” Raph smirked, “It’s not like there ain’t humans that don’t know about us.” </p>
<p>Mikey thoughtfully asked, “Yeah, what about April and Casey?”</p>
<p>But Leo kept him squared in his sights because this was different. Why else would Don keep it a secret? </p>
<p>Mikey shuffled around them, twirling one of the few whole flowers that survived the binocular case and twirling himself further away from them. </p>
<p>“So,” Mike’s smile brightened his blue eyes, “this pretty girl knows about us?” </p>
<p>“Mike,” Leo and Don reached out, then bolted over the back of the couch as Mikey broke for the front door. Raph gave them a hearty chuckle and took up the rear. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“I really wish he wouldn’t hide this crap from us.” </p>
<p>Chris cleared his throat in that annoying about to give a speech way and held up one finger, like he was preparing to scold a young child. She was not the child. She was older. By three and a half minutes. “We’re retired,” he’d made his voice all nasally, as if it was actually a mocking representation of her. </p>
<p>Fine, he wanted to be an ass. She was already exhausted, and they were only taking a brief break before heading out to track down more Purple Dragons. Those little shits hid underground for the last week, they couldn’t find them anywhere. And Vizioso’s guys, poof! Vanished. But now, right in this moment, she could still hit her brother where it hurt the most, “He’s wasting money.” Two more trucks missing. Completely missing. Not the medical supplies and medication stolen. Just missing.</p>
<p>Chris gaped at her with no witty comeback. Tama was wasting money. They could have nipped this in the bud much sooner if only he’d let them all in on the issues DN-Tech had been facing. But no, had to do it all the hard way. </p>
<p>Carina slipped out the door and into the garden, hoping that the cool breeze would wake her up. Give her some motivation to make a late dinner then gear up.</p>
<p>The crispness in the evenings were giving way to the warmth of summer nights. The thought of wearing all that tac-gear during summer, sweltering in black Kevlar, was going to suuuuuuck. She’d be counting the days down until fall. </p>
<p>Green leaves unfolded all over the sakura tree. The diseased limbs still bare. Chris said they’d probably have to cut them off, but that the spray Don used would keep the disease from spreading to the other limbs. </p>
<p>He hadn’t responded yet to her last email. She’d asked what he thought was best to dissolve super glue. But she’d only sent the email an hour ago. He probably had work or super secret ninja stuff or...<br/>An enormous shadow loomed in the corner of the yard. Maybe it was the exhaustion from the day, maybe it was just her extreme desire to see Don and her mind in overdrive. </p>
<p>Carina rubbed her eyes. She must be tired. The shadow looked like it was splitting apart. Two, three, four. Then it stopped moving, making her question if she’d really seen it move at all. Maybe she just needed sleep. </p>
<p>“Dude,” the shadow purred. </p>
<p>Hope blossomed in her. He came back? Wait. Don never said -</p>
<p>The closest shadow darted across the yard to her, throwing Carina up in the air and catching deftly and spinning her around in a hug. An orange mask hitting her cheek and bright ocean blue eyes. </p>
<p>“Oh, my god! She’s so cute!” </p>
<p>“Now we know why he didn’t tell us.” Another shadow smirked. </p>
<p>“Can we keep her? I mean, she’s not even screaming!” She’d wrapped her arms around the closest thing she could to keep herself from falling, his neck. “She’s hugging me!” Mikey squeaked. </p>
<p>“Not helping.” </p>
<p>“Donnie! This is totally unfair! You should have let us in on this beautiful,” Mikey twirled again, trying to toss her in the air except she held fast to his neck still, “lovely...” </p>
<p>“Doctor,” Carina whispered helpfully. </p>
<p>“-DOCTOR! Dude! She’s a genius like you! I love her so much already! You’re the worst brother EVER for keeping her secret!” </p>
<p>“You’re not helping,” Don’s calming tones cut through the night. The other two shadows parting to let him through.</p>
<p>“Donnie?” The last shadow moaned his name so irritatedly. </p>
<p>She’d only heard them call him ‘Don’, and only once. That was actually really adorable that they called him that. </p>
<p>Donnie sighed emphatically. His other two brothers behind him finally emerged into the light from the house. </p>
<p>His face fell even more when he saw her dirty scrubs and dark bags under her eyes and he mouthed, “I’m sorry.” Then said, “Actually, until Mikey she didn’t even know my name. Or that any of you existed.” </p>
<p>That wasn’t true, but now definitely wasn’t the time for that conversation. </p>
<p>“Oh, you mean you didn’t keep a secret friend from all of us and tell her everything there is to know...wait....DOCTOR?” </p>
<p>Carina disentangled herself from Mikey.</p>
<p>“Doctor?” His brother in blue rasped. </p>
<p>“Brothers?” Carina’s grin turned coy. </p>
<p>“It’s not what you…I-” </p>
<p>“I’ve been telling you to give the turtle a break. Why don’t you ever listen?” </p>
<p>“Oh, because you’re the authority on giving someone a break? You won’t even-” </p>
<p>The bickering, an all too familiar repartee, crescendoed. Mikey draped himself around Carina, wrapping her up in a sweet hug. </p>
<p>“So…?” </p>
<p>“Totally normal, dudette.” Wrapping her tighter in his embrace, Mikey commented, “This is pretty tame for them.” Mikey wasn’t warm like snuggling up with a human boy, not really radiating heat, but he was a comfortable temperature. </p>
<p>A crisp knock echoed from the front door straight through the open garden door to them, giving the bickering brothers pause. </p>
<p>“Are you expecting guests?” Don asked cautiously and quietly. </p>
<p>“Nope.” She pressed a finger to her lips, as if they needed to be told to be quiet. All four turtles melted into the closest shadows, a few hits for good measure on their way. </p>
<p>Carina ducked back into the house, meeting her brother at the door from wherever he’d been with a big, cocky grin. “I was right,” Chris said in that insufferable tone he always got. </p>
<p>“Is this really the time?” she grumbled. </p>
<p>“Marked it on the calendar and everything.”</p>
<p>“You are a special kind of petty.” Carina narrowed her eyes. She hadn’t been in the mood for his smartass remarks before, now he was doing it just to see how far he could push her before she snapped in front of everyone. </p>
<p>“You wanna go?” he teased. </p>
<p>Carina shoved Chris from the door and spied through the peephole. April and Casey on the other side, mid-lover’s quarrel. The few late night passers-by on the sidewalk gawked, wide eyed, as they walked by. </p>
<p>Damn. They had enough lights on, and enough noise that anyone could tell one of them would be home. Carina steeled herself and opened the door. “Hey, guys. Uh, not a great-” </p>
<p>April threw herself into Carina, both surprising her and knocking her back. </p>
<p>“That wasn’t necessary!” Casey nagged. </p>
<p>“Explain to me why they’re with a ‘doctor’!” April’s voice reached the topmost of her register, causing Carina and Chris to wince as she made quotes in the air around ‘doctor’. “I looked her up you know.” </p>
<p>“O-K.” Casey rolled his eyes and threw his long loose hair back, exactly like he used to do when he would get into a fight on the street.  </p>
<p>“She’s a genetic engineer!” April spat. </p>
<p>Shadows in the garden moved closer, Carina tried to wave them away discreetly, but seconds later Donnie jogged in with his brother’s, a mixture of relief and utter terror still in his eyes. “What are you two doing here?” </p>
<p>“Leo sent me your guys’ location.” April cocked an eyebrow as she dug in and scolded them, “Why the hell are you guys even here?” Grins and smirks and scowls all turned on Donnie. </p>
<p>So, she’d single handedly started a family feud. ‘Oops’ didn’t even begin to cover the mistake she’d made with the flowers. She’d meant it to be funny. Remind him of her. Maybe goad him into coming again. That was before…brothers.  </p>
<p>Uncomfortable chuckles as the four turtles exchanged slaps and glares. </p>
<p>Blue turtle boy folded his arms around himself. His brothers turned on Leo. “What? Not like I didn’t know where we were going. I remembered just as well as Mikey where the tree was.” </p>
<p>This started another flurry of bickering that quickly turned into shouting and finger pointing, and included Casey and April. Chris wasn’t pinned in the middle of it all like she was. He skirted the group to the kitchen, avoiding notice until, “Who is that?” Leo barked. </p>
<p>“Nobody. Keep on, then.” Chris waved towards Don, trying to redirect their attention back to the turtle causing all the problems. </p>
<p>“’Sup Chris,” Casey clapped Chris’ hand earning him yet another intense glare from his girlfriend. “What?” </p>
<p>“There’s two?” Leo cried. </p>
<p>“Oh, no.” Casey yelped.</p>
<p>Chris busied himself making popcorn to settle in for the show as it heated up again. The only thing that cut through the shouting a sharp whistle. It worked. </p>
<p>Everyone stopped long enough for Carina to command, “Ok! Anyone shouting can haul their asses straight back out into the garden!” The order hung heavy in the air. There seemed to be confusion as to whether anyone should move. Casey started towards the door, but April moved to block his path. Donnie tried to follow suit and Leo grabbed his shoulder. </p>
<p>“We should do what she says,” Casey mumbled. </p>
<p>Raph laughed, “Casey Jones is scared of this cute little -“ </p>
<p>Yes, she was small and, admittedly, adorable. She knew that. It always led to problems in college and during post-doctorate work. And with her family. And in literally every aspect of her life. <br/>But no matter how cute and adorable she was her jab still hit Casey’s shoulder just as hard as any hit he’d taken. Possibly a bit harder than she’d intended. His muscular shoulder gave and she knew instantly she’d hit too hard and prayed she hadn’t torn his rotator cuff at all. </p>
<p>Doubled over, Casey groaned as she started in on him. “I swear! Couldn’t stop her from ambushing me? And on my longest day of the week?”  </p>
<p>“Hey, I -” Casey started. </p>
<p>April slapped him on the opposite shoulder. “Are you more scared of her than me?” </p>
<p>“I-You,” Casey heaved out a pained laugh. Raph gave him no help, backing out of through the door out into the garden leaving Casey with an enthusiastic thumbs up. </p>
<p>“Let me guess, you didn’t tell her anything?” Carina didn’t appreciate being ambushed anymore than Casey did. </p>
<p>The other turtle brothers discreetly backed their way toward the door, scattering as April stomped out into the garden. </p>
<p>“April!” Casey gave his girlfriend chase. </p>
<p>“Yeah, Jones. Run!” Chris chuckled at them as the brothers retreated too. “Heh. He’s a dead man.” </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Carina agreed, “Just not sure which of us will kill him first.”  </p>
<p>She felt a sharp pain in her neck, as if enclosed in a vice. This was not how she’d expected her evening to go. She’d planned on busting skulls, not busting asses. Carina took a few deep breaths, reached back and stole Chris’ bag of popcorn, dancing away from him as she dumped popcorn straight into her mouth. </p>
<p>“Give it-Can’t you go save that dumbasses life. O’Neil’s going to kill him.” Chris tried to catch her, missing each twist and turn she made. She let her brother catch her and steal the bag back. </p>
<p>Out in the garden April ranted at Casey, Leo kept on his brother and that only incited wrath from the other two. </p>
<p>“Fine,” she moaned. “There goes going out tonight.” </p>
<p>“I think you’ll still get into a fistfight.” </p>
<p>Oh, he was rooting for a fistfight. </p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Having the same argument with Leo over something so trivial, so banal, so flimsy pushed Donnie over the edge. April offered a far more intellectual disagreement about his actions at the same time she still held fast, figuratively and literally, to Casey and his betrayal. </p>
<p>“What? Everyone likes Cara!” Casey protested, giving Donnie a break.</p>
<p>“I must not be everyone!” April raged, then wheeled back on Don, “And you! Were you using your brain?” </p>
<p>“Thought we talked about this.” Raph kept his tone less hostile than with Leo, only because it was April. “Don does nuthin’ but use his brain.” </p>
<p>Leo argued back, “She’s a genetic engineer. Do we need to reminisce about other scientists we’ve met before?” </p>
<p>“She,” Carina popped up beside him and fired right back, “is a pediatrician.” </p>
<p>“Who was a genetic engineer.” April finished, then jabbed Casey’s unhurt shoulder, “Didn’t know that, did ya?”</p>
<p>“OW! Hey! What do you want me to do now? They know. They know we know about ‘em.” Casey threw his arms between the parties. With nowhere safe to hide, Casey retreated the few steps to Raph.</p>
<p>“Don should have…” April started.  </p>
<p>“Should have what?” Don snapped. In the time they’d chased Mikey to the sakura tree, Leo got off enough in a text to April to pit her against him. A first for all their years together as friends. The tides of their communal levelheadedness tearing apart for the first tie.  “I kept it to myself, yes. But I limited the flow of information. They didn’t know about any of you until you showed up. I made a mistake. What do you want me to do about it now?” </p>
<p>“Convince me that their not,” Leo stumbled over his words and Don understood. If they were part of the Foot, they obviously knew about the Foot already. If they weren’t, if they were as innocent as Don believed, all his brother would do would add to their burden them with this additional information. And it could end with a target on their backs. For April and Casey, that was a moot point. Plus, they could mostly take care of themselves. Why put that burden on a doctor? “Convince me they will not lock us in a lab somewhere.” </p>
<p>“I’d let the doc lock me in a lab,” Mikey bounded next to Carina and swung her around again. </p>
<p>A shot hit Don straight in the heart, watching her get untangled from Mikey in a fit of dizzy giggles. </p>
<p>“What will it take to convince you?” She asked out of nowhere, still fighting back Mikey’s infectious fit, one that had even cracked Raph’s stern facade. </p>
<p>“She’s literally a nightmare.” Chris, who didn’t seem keen on inserting himself into the situation, finally spoke up from the side. And only to taunt his sister. “I wouldn’t trust her.” </p>
<p>Forgetting anyone else was there, Carina snarled at her brother, “I’m a fucking delight. Thank you very much.” </p>
<p>The marked difference in bickering with the twins than his own brothers never ceased to amaze him. The twins were a friendly kind of hostile. The complete opposite of Raph’s brand of hostility. They were nothing more than playful. </p>
<p>Leo scoffed. </p>
<p>“She’s right, actually. She is a fucking delight.” </p>
<p>“Oh no,” Don threw his arms around her waist, surprised but the sheer weight in such a compact form. “Punching is a bad idea,” Don whispered in her ear. Then he dropped her just as suddenly realizing what he’d done. Even Chris was staring interestedly at him.</p>
<p>Casey, still nursing his shoulder by rolling it in slow, deliberate circles, muttered, “For Leo.” </p>
<p>“That’s absurd. I’m a trained ninja, she’s...” </p>
<p>Strong. She was really, really strong. Leo hadn’t seen the tapes. He didn’t feel her yank his arms almost out of their sockets. </p>
<p>Don realized the mistake of letting her go and tried to correct it only too slow. He couldn’t grab Carina fast enough to stop her from getting into Leo’s face.  </p>
<p>“Just tell me! What will it take for you to trust that I won’t do anything to you guys?” Her voice strained and guilt racked Don. He should have disappeared into the night and never contacted her again. </p>
<p>Leo felt the weight of so many curious minds turn on him. He was used to the pressure of making a decision. “Sensei should decide.” </p>
<p>Their brother’s protested with “No way!” And, “Dude, he’s never going to -” but Don didn’t see the point. </p>
<p>Well, since he hadn’t finished it earlier, father would now. Since childhood their father had been extremely protective and for good reason. Their feud alone with the Foot Clan proof enough of the dangers of the topside world to them. Winters’ Corp had been a fluke what with interdimensional monsters wreaking havoc and the NYPD unequipped to deal with the situation. </p>
<p>April and Casey had always been a stroke of luck. Extenuating circumstances and all. Even so, Sensei only marginally accepted Casey. Mostly because Casey had some hold over Raph and even kept him out of trouble more often than not.</p>
<p>But the twins? A high-profile scientist, or formerly high profile. Semantics. She had the capability, probably the money and equipment. They had very little reason to trust her.</p>
<p>All those doubts filled his chest, making it heavy and hard to breathe. Leo’s accusations, which still sounded ludicrous, also made Don rethink every interaction. </p>
<p>“Fine! Bring your Sensei here!” Miraculously, her confidence didn’t sputter at all.</p>
<p>Off near the kitchen door, Chris sputtered. “What?” </p>
<p>Carina didn’t take notice of her own brother. She jumped at Leo again. “Bring it on!” </p>
<p>“Ok!” He shouted.</p>
<p>“Great!” She answered as loud as possible. </p>
<p>“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” her brother jerked her away from Leo. “As amusing as all of this is, what are you going to do? Have him over for tea?”</p>
<p>“That’s a great idea! Tea! Here, tomorrow night.” </p>
<p>“Tea? Cara, no. That’s probably,” she interrupted him with a hard shove. Chris landed in the grass but just as fast snatched his sister’s wrist, was on his feet and lead her, kicking and fighting, to the kitchen. “Excuse us for a moment.” </p>
<p>Leaving them to bicker again. </p>
<p>Off to the side in the garden Don spotted an old wooden side table, like a bedside table. Hardwood with rich staining and beautiful grain. Odd for it to be sitting outside in the garden until he noticed a phone case missing it’s phone and a dark patch of cloth on top. </p>
<p>“I think your-”</p>
<p>“Choose your next words carefully, Jones.” </p>
<p>“-being ridiculous. Everyone likes Carina. She’s not going to have any problem with Splinter.” </p>
<p>“I don’t know, Case.” Raph offered, “I think she might throw down with Splinter if he insults her tea.” Playfully he smacked Casey’s arm and got a deep groan in response. </p>
<p>“Yeah, well she can hold her own.” They all looked skeptical. Casey fell back on his first statement, “And everyone does like Carina. Even here. You just don’t know it yet.” </p>
<p>“I don’t.” April folded her arms. Scarily looking like Leo. </p>
<p>“Me either.” Leo agreed.</p>
<p>“Come on, she’s a kid doc. They’re all sweet and cute…” </p>
<p>“Cute?” Everyone froze at April’s sudden outburst. Then they all gaped at Casey because he had learned nothing in the last several weeks. </p>
<p>“Oh, my god.” Don realized, feeling so very dumb in that instant as Raph and Mikey came to the realization at the same time as him. “She was the ‘friend’ you were talking about?” </p>
<p>Mikey cheered while Raph said, “Oh ho ho. This keeps getting better and better.” </p>
<p>“Not helping, Raph!” Casey groaned. </p>
<p>“Honestly, I’m just ‘ere for the show now.” Raph must have noticed how nauseated Don looked. “Oh, how much trouble can that little girl be?” </p>
<p>The side table off near the house seemed to light up, the patchwork of cloth and the phone case standing out starkly against the wood. First Raph’s eyes trailed where Don’s were, then Leo and Mikey followed. </p>
<p>“What’s the big deal?” </p>
<p>But Casey’s sudden hysterics confirmed Don’s fears because Mikey became transfixed. </p>
<p>Chris, at the door, muted and sullen, said, “I think it’s clear what she did. You got an email from her. See y’all tomorrow night.” </p>
<p>Leo swiveled on Don again. </p>
<p>“She super glued your phone and wallet to the nightstand?” It was a good guess, and Chris nodded back at him. “And this was not retaliation for anything?” Mikey squealed excitedly, bouncing around in crazy circles. </p>
<p>Holding up his hands innocently, Chris retreated inside one last time and shut the kitchen door. “Tomorrow night.” </p>
<p>Don looked around in the grass. Anything to avoid Raph, Leo and April’s disapproval. Bits of tea leaves and dried fruits littered the grass near Casey. </p>
<p>He didn’t want to dwell on what Chris put into her tea to make her dump it and super glue his personal effects. And he really didn’t want to give Mikey any ideas. </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>SURPRISE! Nano's not even over but I burned out on my project and needed a break so I finished editing a chapter that was close to done before Nano prep started in October. I forgot how much fun stuff this chapter had. Like the prank and bickering. Well, I promise, mostly, that the next chapter will not take me months to put out.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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